Broken
by skag trendy
Summary: Complete AU. The bond between the brothers was all too easily broken. Set after the death of Azazel, and assumes Sam didn’t die at the hands of Jake. When he finds out what happened in his absence, Dean tries to find a way back to Sam.
1. Chapter 1

**Broken Chapter 1**

_**Complete AU. The bond between the brothers was all too easily broken. **_

_**Set after the death of Azazale, and assumes Sam didn't die at the hands of Jake.**_

Sitting on Bobby's porch swing, feet up, muscles aching, Sam reflected on the last six months. Things had been pretty intense, he was exhausted, and he missed his brother like crazy. But Dean was gone, left in a storm of anger, and he wasn't coming back. No one had seen or heard from him in all that time, and though he'd desperately wanted to search for him, Sam really was in no position to.

It had been a stupid row, as always, that escalated to equally stupid heights.

Sam wanted to go back to Stanford, but this time he wanted Dean to go with him.

And why not? Ding dong the demon's dead, end of story.

But Dean hadn't seen it like that. He hadn't seen it like that at all.

_He'd_ seen Sam's decision as a betrayal; to the hunt, to their dead parents, to Dean himself.

Sam felt it was time to get on with their lives. Build a future for themselves in the normal world. They now knew there were other hunters in the world to keep the darkness in check.

Harsh words had been exchanged; things that were much better left unsaid, and Dean had taken off.

Sam worried like hell. He had no idea where Dean was, and he lay awake most nights, desperately hoping his older brother would call to let Sam know he was ok. His own calls went unanswered, text messages sent out into the technological ether, never to be replied to.

Bobby had kept a discreet ear to the ground, but there wasn't much he could do. Sam, now alone in the world, had needed him.

Sam just _knew_ Dean was still alive. He could _feel _it.

He sighed tiredly, trying to shift the still aching muscles. Picking up the once abandoned book, he tried again to get his head into the plot, but nothing was working.

He grew increasingly restless day after day and it was all he could do not to head on out and look for Dean, even knowing he wouldn't get far. Not with the way things were for him now.

Sam stared out across the yard, unseeingly, caught up in the past.

A low rumble distracted him, and a familiar black car swept by, pulling up at an angle.

Sam couldn't believe it, and gaped as someone climbed out the driver's seat.

_Dean._

Blinking back the sudden tears, Sam felt nervous as hell, wondering if his brother still hated him.

Dean swung round, slamming the car door as he went then froze when he saw Sam.

Eyes neutral, and moving slowly, he approached the house, stopping a few feet away.

This wasn't the Dean Winchester Sam remembered.

_This_ Dean Winchester looked older, hollowed out, tired…_cold._

Sam inwardly smirked. _Right. And you look so much damn better!_

But Dean had fresh scars along his neck and jaw line, whereas Sam's scars weren't quite so visible.

Dean jerked his chin towards the house. "Bobby around?"

Sam blinked in hurt surprise. "Uh…he's out back, fixing…something…or something…" His voice trailed off for a second before he plucked up the courage to ask softly. "Dean…where you been all this time?"

Dean just glared at him coldly. "Around. He in the workshop?" At Sam's nod he made to head out to the yard.

"Dean, wait…"

His brother stopped "What're you doin' here Sam? Shouldn't you be back at Stanford?"

Sam swallowed hard before replying. "Uh…didn't happen. Decided not to go in the end." That was a bare faced lie; he'd been given no choice, but he wasn't ready to tell Dean what happened.

For some reason that seemed to make Dean angry. His eyes narrowed slightly as he stared at Sam, judging, assessing.

"So you're living here? Thought you wanted nothing to do with hunters huh Sam?" He stepped closer with each word, right up until he was glaring down at his little brother. "Like you said, it's the end of the line, and hunting was never the life you wanted in the first place."

Sam stared up at him, feeling a flicker of fear at the cold anger in Dean's voice. He'd never been afraid of his brother before, _ever._ But he was now, as Dean searched his gaze…

It didn't stop Sam from doing a stupid little thing like showing that he still cared.

"I've been worried about you Dean."

Which, judging by the hot flash of anger in Dean's eyes, was totally the wrong thing to say.

_Any moment now…_

_**SSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSS**_

Dean was reeling a little in shock. The last thing he was expecting was to run into Sam at Bobby's place, and by the looks of things his brother had been there a while.

He felt anger and betrayal making a big come back as he moved in, getting a closer look at the dark shadows under Sam's eyes. Whereas Dean knew his own eyes bore little emotion these days, Sam's however seemed haunted, filled with pain.

_Well that's just too bad Sammy. I don't have time for this…_

"I've been worried about you Dean." The concern in Sam's voice nearly sent him over the edge.

"Oh right." Dean watched Sam flinch the sarcasm. "So when I was trapped in a burning building a few months back, a poltergeist 'bout ready to chew on my ass, it was _you_ that got me out huh?"

"Dean, I…" Sam shook his head.

"What about the wendigo that wanted to chow down on me last week? Tell me Sam, was that you again? Aw shucks little bro, I'm flattered you care so damn much!"

"You shouldn't have hunted those things alone…" But Dean wouldn't let Sam finish that sentence.

"Screw you Sam! I don't wanna hear that false concern; it's all crap!" Dean grabbed a fistful of Sam's shirt, yanking him up from the porch swing.

He barely noticed Sam's legs buckle underneath him. "You never cared about Dad or me. You just wanted to go your own way and damn the consequences for everyone else!" He let go of his little brother, watching him with a smirk as Sam fell heavily to the wooden veranda.

As small noises of distress sounded from Sam, Dean just got angrier.

"Sam, get up! Your drama queen act won't wash," Dean just stood there watching as Sam breathed heavily, saying nothing. "Get up Sam! The least you could do is stand and face me!"

Dean started frowning when Sam whimpered in genuine pain and tried to drag himself back up on to the porch swing. Something was definitely wrong with Sam's legs. He quickly knelt down, grabbing Sam's arm. "Sam? What's wrong with you?" Dean's eyes widened when he caught the expression of agony on Sam's face. "Jesus…"

Footsteps pounded the veranda, a gruff voice announcing "What the hells all the yellin' about?" Bobby appeared, taking in the scene. "Oh my god, Sam!"

Shoving Dean out of the way, Bobby laid Sam back against his chest. "Dean, what the hell did you do to 'im!?"

"I…" Dean didn't know what to say.

"Sam, don't try to move, just stay still. Everythings gonna be ok. Dean? Call for an ambulance." When Dean just stood there shocked and unmoving, he barked out

"Now!"

**_SSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSS_**

**_Yeah, Dean's not to likable right now, but...will things get better?_**

**_That's up to you._**

**_Ya gotta let me know..._**

**_Kind regards,_**

**_ST.xxx._**


	2. Chapter 2

**Broken Chapter 2**

"Just breathe through it Sam," Bobby held him still as the ambulance pulled up.

Dean stared at his little brother in shock. Sam lay back against Bobby Singer, eyes closed, teeth gritted against crying out.

"Bobby what happened to him?"

"Not now Dean." Bobby growled as Sam tensed up further.

"Ok sir. Can you tell me where it hurts?" An EMT crouched by Sam, checking his pulse, rolling up his sleeve and attaching a blood pressure cuff.

"My…back." Sam answered, breathless with pain.

Before questions could be asked Bobby had the answers ready.

"Sam injured his back a few months ago; he's havin' physical therapy but he still can't walk." Bobby didn't want Dean to hear the full story, not yet. Not like this. "He took a pretty nasty fall 'bout thirty minutes ago." He managed to avoid Dean's gaze.

The EMT nodded and turned to his patient. "Sam? Do you have any sensation in your legs?"

"No." Sam's nostrils flared as another bolt of agony shot through his spine. When he let out a small groan the technician smiled with sympathy.

"Let me see what I can do about all that pain you're in, ok?" When Sam nodded, he fitted a phial full of a clear liquid to a hypodermic, then after swabbing the crook of Sam's arm with an alcohol wipe, administered the powerful pain meds. Within seconds Sam felt himself relaxing.

"Your sats are a little low, Sam. So I'm gonna put you on oxygen before we transfer you to the back board." And proceeded to secure a transparent mask over Sam's mouth and nose. "Stay real still there Sam; let us do all the work for ya."

The other EMT, a heavyset woman in her early forties, grinned at him reassuringly as she placed a collar round his neck.

It was a smile meant to ease his worries a little, and might have worked if not for catching a glimpse of the stony expression on Dean's face; Sam all at once felt scared and ashamed, and couldn't bring himself to look at him again. In any case, by the time Sam was strapped to the back board, the pain meds had taken full effect and he was pretty much out of it.

Bobby placed a hand on Sam's head and gently stroked his hair. "It's ok Sam. We'll follow on behind the ambulance. You aint alone."

And Dean was surprised by the rather affectionate, fatherly gesture. It was so unlike Bobby to be demonstrative, and that pushed Dean's fear levels went up another notch. So did his jealousy, which he knew he had no right to feel.

What made matters worse was that the one time he managed to catch Sam's eye his jaw had automatically clenched at the pain he saw there. And he knew that always made him look angry. His brother had almost visibly cringed and shied away from him.

_What the hell happened to you Sam?_

He watched as Bobby handed over a business card to the female EMT. "Tim Rogers is Sam's doctor and surgeon. He knows the deal."

She smiled and nodded. "I'll radio ahead and have 'im paged."

And Sam was loaded onto the ambulance.

Dean glanced at his brother one last time before the doors were slammed shut. Sam's eyes were closed, skin pale, beads of perspiration on his cheeks and forehead.

Dean drew in a shaky breath and turned to find Bobby staring at him, expression unreadable, but Dean just hardened his eyes and jerked his chin towards the Impala. "Come on. Let's go."

During the drive Dean had to bite his tongue so many times that it was a wonder he had any taste buds left. The silence was suffocating and Dean wanted to ask, _needed_ to ask, but sensed that Bobby was in no mood to talk.

And you couldn't hurry someone like Bobby Singer.

_**SSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSS**_

The world seemed to go by in a blur for Sam, with voices and activities taking place…under water, surely?

He didn't think about being afraid, didn't feel pain anymore, though he was pretty sure pain was still on the cards.

Sam stared at the ceiling of the ambulance, eyelids at half mast.

_How did it turn out like this? One mistake and I end up a cripple, and now my brother hates me!_

He felt a gradual build up of pressure in his lower back, and blinked.

_Pain meds must be wearing off already._

But that didn't explain why he still felt so drowsy.

The pressure became a dull ache and Sam tried unsuccessfully to shift his position. When the ache became sickly, he let out a small groan which caught the attention of the EMTs.

"Sweety? You ok there?"

Before Sam could answer, it suddenly blossomed into an all out fiery rage, the pain so intense that he cried out. The painful throbbing made him dizzy and his breathing picked up speed.

The EMTs were trying to talk to him but Sam couldn't hear above the buzzing and roaring in his ears. He just stared at them helplessly before the pain took him in a firm grip of iron, and mercifully he passed out.

_**SSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSS**_

Dean followed the ambulance closely until it pulled up sharply at the entrance to the ER. He watched in alarm as the rear doors were flung open and the EMTs appeared.

Something was wrong.

Whereas back at Bobby's yard the EMTs had acted with cool, calm, professional concern, now their movements were quick, sharp and touched with almost panicked urgency.

Something was _really_ god damn wrong!

Dean and Bobby leapt out of the car as Sam was lowered out the back of the ambulance.

One look at Sam, and Dean started running. His brother was deathly pale, too still, and his oxygen mask was barely fogging up.

When a tall, blond guy in his late thirties appeared from the ER, Bobby headed towards him.

"Bobby? What the hell happened? Sam was doing so well."

"Tim." Bobby nodded a quick greeting. "His brother finally showed up and it came as a bit of a shock. Sam took a fall; it wasn't far but it _was_ hard."

"Damnit!" Tim Rogers muttered, then crouched down by Sam. "Hey buddy. What ya done to yourself this time huh?" He spied someone hovering nearby and watched him out the corner of his eye.

_So you're the missing older brother? Bet this came as a shock!_

"What's his status?" Tim barked out to the EMTs

Dean watched the whirl of activity around Sam, noted the familiarity Sam's doctor had with his little brother with even more jealousy, and listened with increasing worry to the EMTs as they explained.

"…he lost consciousness a few minutes ago…"

"…BP started falling…"

"…tried to up his oxygen intake…"

"…unresponsive and tachycardic…"

They hurried Sam into the ER, Dean and Bobby in their wake.

Tim seemed to know what he was looking for, however.

"Forgo the CT scan and just prep him for emergency surgery. He's got a bleed." Tim turned to Bobby briefly before disappearing behind another set of doors. "I think the bullet became dislodged and if I'm right? Sam's in for a bad time."

And that confirmed Bobby's suspicions.

And _that_ really stopped Dean in his tracks.

_Bullet? What the fuck?_

"What?!"

Bobby sighed tiredly then glanced at Dean. Seeing the panic and anger drain all the colour from the kid's face, he indicated they should sit down.

Once Dean had sunk down into the plastic seat, Bobby began to relate everything that had happened in the last six months.

"You wanted to know? Well here it is. And if this surgery goes anything like the last few, Sam's gonna be in there for a good few hours, so I guess we got time."

Dean stared at him. "How long?"

"Last time he had surgery?" At Dean's nod he replied "fourteen hours."

"Holy shit!" Dean got up and started pacing. "Who was it? Another hunter? Gordon?" His eyes flashed angrily at the mere thought. "And why the hell didn't they remove the bullet?"

Bobby shook his head in frustration. "Nothin' like that, now if ya just shut up for long enough I'll explain. And stop that damn pacin'; ya makin' me nervous!"

Dean thumped back down in his seat. "Ok." He muttered.

Bobby took a breath and began.

"The night you bailed, Sam went searchin' for ya. He didn't stop researching, followin' leads, drawin' blanks, but you'd just disappeared off the face of the planet. He wore 'imself out for two solid weeks, refusing to give up, refusing to accept the possibility you were 

already dead." Bobby stopped, remembering the fierce determination on Sam's face as he carried on searching for a brother that didn't want to be found. "Then one afternoon I got a call. In your absence I'd been listed as an emergency contact on Sam's cell phone."

Bobby shook his head again, this time in despair.

"I'll tell ya. If you'd sat there and told me that Charles Bronson was gay I couldn't have been more shocked. Sam was out on a hunt, hopin' to run into you. He stopped at a gas station on route to fill up, but it wasn't 'til he went inside to pay that he realised there was a robbery in progress. Sam was too damned exhausted to spot the signs of trouble until it was too late…"

"Oh god!" Dean whispered, a hand over his eyes.

"Things calmed down for a while until one of the gunmen threatened a hostage. She was barely in her teens and scared outta her mind. Sam got the kid out through the rear fire exit, but caught two bullets in the back for his trouble."

He heard Dean's swift intake of breath, then continued.

"He doesn't remember much after that, but the cops were eventually called and they stormed the place after two hours of failed negotiations. Found Sam bleedin' to death on the floor."

There was a brief silence as Dean took this in.

"Two hours?" Dean gaped. "He was lying there for two hours?" Anger thoroughly coloured his voice, and Bobby could just make out the vein pulsing in his neck. "Why the hell did it take so long?" Bobby tried not to wince at the raised tone.

"'Cos no one on the outside knew anyone had been hurt, and the other hostages were forbidden to help Sam. Remember, he was shot _before _the cops were called. The hostage he saved was already free and didn't realise anyone had been hurt when she heard the shots."

Dean scrubbed a hand over his face and tried to remain calm, but it wasn't easy. His mind's eye was already working it's evil magic, and now he had a perfect image of Sam lying in a pool of his own blood. And instinct told him that particular piece of artwork wasn't so far from the truth.

_And it's all my fault._

Bobby gave him a few minutes to control himself. In truth, although he felt anger towards Dean for the way he'd treated Sam, he couldn't help the sympathy creep in now. After all, Dean hadn't known about Sam's condition, and it wasn't really his fault. It could've happened at any time, and Sam would've reacted the same way.

_Helluva home comin' though. No wonder the kid's lookin' so sick._

"Tell me the rest." Dean asked quietly, staring at the floor. Anger was quietly giving way to guilt. Dean did his best to hold himself together, knowing that not too far away, Sam was fighting for his life.

Bobby wondered how to approach this, then just came out with it.

"The first bullet went deep. Deep enough to compromise his spinal cord. But it was the second bullet that did the real damage. It splintered on impact, driving the first one harder into him. Surgery went on for damned hours to remove the shards, but Tim felt that before he could remove the first slug Sam needed to heal. He'd also lost too much blood, which didn't help. So the first bullet stayed in, paralysing Sam's legs."

Dean looked at him, stricken.

"Sam was scheduled for surgery to remove the remaining bullet next week. But somehow I don't think that's gonna happen now."

__

_**SSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSS**_

_**Authors notes:**_

Again, making this up as I go along purely for your entertainment. But can I point out to one particular reviewer that I apologise for my misspelling of the YEDs name; I would challenge anyone that's been up for nearly thirty hours on emergency call out duty to have no spelling, grammar or punctuation errors. Hope that didn't keep you up all night.

Aside from that, you've all been great and I really appreciate your help. Hope I've managed to reply to you all, if not then, again, my apologies.

Kind regards,

ST.xxx.


	3. Chapter 3

**Broken Chapter 3**

The first thing Sam became aware of was the vent in his throat. The familiar, tight discomfort was almost welcoming; it meant he was still alive.

When he'd eventually woken up after the emergency surgery that saved his life sixth months before, Sam had nearly choked himself half to death in panic. But now he knew the drill.

Sam tried to relax into it, letting the machine breathe for him. His eyelids felt like lead and he didn't even _try_ to lift them. The throbbing in his back was getting on his nerves, but at least he was no longer in desperate agony.

So there _was_ something to be thankful for.

_**SSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSS**_

Tim strode down the hallway, exhaustion weighing heavily on his shoulders.

_Sixteen and a half hours! Jeeze!_

About half that time was taken up trying to stop the bleeding and locate the bullet, which unfortunately still couldn't be removed.

Tim shook his head sadly. He'd tried, but Sam had lost a dangerous amount of blood making it just too damn risky.

It was a terrible setback, one that could take months to resolve. But what also saddened him was the extensive damage this episode had caused.

And now he had the unhappy task of informing Sam's family.

Telling Sam would be worse. The kid was tough all right. Tim had been impressed with Sam's courage and strength of character over the last sixth months; never giving up, always pushing himself just that little bit further. The physical therapy was painful and hard going, and Sam never once complained.

But everyone had their breaking point. Tim knew from experience that even the strong and the brave could fall, and they were often the ones that fell the hardest.

He came to a brief halt after entering the waiting area.

Bobby and Dean immediately got to their feet and started up with the questions.

"Is he ok?"

"Is he going to be all right?"

"Is the bullet out?"

Is…?

Is…?

_Is_...?

Tim held up his hands, palms outwards to stall them. When they fell silent, he sat down and gave them the news.

He spoke quietly and calmly, voice apologetic and concerned. When he finished Bobby closed his eyes sadly and turned away. Dean just stared at the floor, expression unreadable, but Tim sensed the heavy cloud of guilt cloaking his patient's older brother.

"…I'm so very sorry. We did the best we could, but it's gonna take time. It just doesn't look promising." After a brief pause he added. "With your permission, I'd like to wait until Sam's fully awake and feeling better before breaking this to him. After all he's been through trying to get back on his feet; this'll come as a terrible shock."

"Sure." Bobby muttered eyes now on the ceiling.

"Yeah, you're right." Dean whispered then glanced up at Sam's doctor. "Can I see him? Please?"

Bobby turned and stared at him.

"Dean, I don't think that's such a good idea under the circumstances."

Dean's gaze turned hard, challenging. "He's my brother and I need to see him!"

"Pity you didn't feel that need sixth months ago! He was still your brother back then, but it didn't stop you walking away from him!" Bobby retorted, regretting the words the instant they left his mouth. It was a cheap shot, but Bobby was tired, worried, and strung out on the gallons of caffeine he'd consumed in the last god knew how many hours they'd been waiting to hear news of Sam.

Tim glanced from one guy to the other. He'd known about Dean's long absence after the brothers had fought, but something else was going on here. And although it was none of his 

business, Sam was his patient and therefore it was Sam's well being he was primarily concerned with. He wanted no arguments tonight of all nights.

"If you two are gonna fight then Sam's off limits to the both of ya. He's got a hard, long road ahead of him and the last thing he needs is to hear the people he loves yelling at each other. What he _actually_ needs is your support, not a family feud." Tim admonished, and then he paused to take a breath. "So, you guys gonna play nice? Or do I call security and have you removed?"

Wow. He'd shocked the two of them into complete silence. The doctor got the distinct feeling that didn't happen too often.

Dean relaxed a little and nodded slowly, still stung by Bobby's comments, however true they might have been. "We'll behave doc, I promise."

Bobby took off his ancient baseball cap, scratched his head and replaced it. "You're right. I'm sorry Dean, I shouldn't have said that."

"S'ok. I deserved it." Dean replied a little sadly.

Tim nodded, satisfied. "Follow me. Sam should be fairly settled in his room by now, though he still might be pretty out of it." He turned to Bobby. "I arranged to give him his old room back, overlooking the gardens. I know how much he liked looking out the windows last time he was here."

Bobby smiled a little. "Thanks Tim. I'm sure Sam'll appreciate that when he wakes up."

Dean kept silent during that exchange, but he listened, the guilt getting stronger. It was another painful reminder of what Sam had been through whilst Dean was gone.

He wondered sadly if Sam had ever thought about him whilst he was here, wondered where he was, and worried about him.

Knowing Sam? More than likely.

Knowing Sam? He'd worried more about Dean than about himself.

And that thought hurt.

A part of him really didn't want to see his injured sibling in a hospital bed, especially as he was the reason for it, but he owed Sam that much. And besides, he'd missed his baby brother in all those months, but had been too angry to get in contact and make things right.

And _Sam had nearly died whilst searching for me!_

Dean tried to stop the inevitable 'what ifs' as he approached Sam's room.

The _what if Sam had actually died and Dean hadn't known? _

The_ what if Dean had showed up at Bobby's yesterday, only to be told by his old friend that Sam was dead?_

The _what if Sam had died on the floor of that gas station all alone, thinking Dean hated him?_

And those thoughts _really _hurt.

So much so, that he had to swallow back the bile rising in his throat.

Nervously stuffing his hands into his jean pockets, Dean followed Bobby and Doc Rogers into his brother's room.

_**SSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSS**_

Sam had been dozing, still under the influence of the anaesthetic, when he heard a door opening and several sets of footsteps heading towards him.

Someone took hold of his right hand, which would have startled him except he could barely move for the incredible lethargy he felt.

"Sam, if you can hear me, squeeze my hand once for yes and twice for no. Ok?"

_That Tim's voice,_ Sam thought idly, _great doctor, always encouraging, pushy bastard though…what was I supposed to do again? Oh right…_

_**Squeeze.**_

"That's great Sam. Do you remember why you're here?"

_**Squeeze…**_long pause_**…squeeze. **__Not sure._

He vaguely remembered falling, being in the ambulance, and the terrible pain in his back. Bobby had been there at some point, talking to him, reassuring him.

_Had someone else been there?_

_Dean?_

_No. Can't have been. Haven't seen him in months._

But the more he thought about it, the more _right_ it sounded.

Whoops. He'd missed that. Tim had asked him something else but Sam hadn't been paying attention. He lay still and waited for the doctor to repeat the question.

"Sam? Can you open your eyes for me please?"

_Huh. Tall order dude. Feel like I got an entire pharmacy swimming round my bloodstream and you want me to open my eyes? Damn pushy doctors!_

In spite of his internal grumbling, Sam wrenched his eyelids open to the halfway point and found himself gazing up at Tim Rogers.

Sam could just about make out the blurred shape of the tube that wound out of his mouth, right in front of his nose, which for some reason made the sensation of having oxygen pushed into his lungs feel more intense, his chest rising and falling in tandem to the hiss and click of the ventilator almost surreal.

"That's good Sam. I'm just gonna check your eyes ok?"

_**Squeeze.**_

Tim leaned in and gently pried Sam's eyelids further open, shinning a penlight into each one. Seemingly satisfied, Tim smiled down at Sam.

"Looking good so far. I'm sure you'd like that vent taken out, but I'd rather keep you on it for a little while longer, just in case." Tim watched Sam blink wearily up at him. "Yeah I know. Those things are a bastard, but you lost a lot of blood to an internal bleed when that 

bullet shifted and caused a rupture. You also lost way too much in surgery so I want you to stay on the vent 'til we're certain you're properly stabilised."

Tim was holding back, Sam could tell. Whatever it was, it was serious and the doc clearly didn't think Sam was ready to hear it.

His fears must've been evident on his face because Tim instantly sought to reassure him.

"It's ok Sam. It was touch and go for a while there, but you'll live. We have a lot to talk about later, but for now just rest up." Tim grinned at him. "You're family's here, and if I don't shut up and get the hell out, they'll rip me a fresh one." He ruffled Sam's hair playfully when he spotted his patient's mouth twitching in an attempt to smile. "I'll drop by later to check on ya, ok Sam?"

_**Squeeze.**_

One final grin, and the doctor got up and left, throwing a warning glance to the other occupants of the room, whose presence Sam was only just becoming aware of.

Someone approached his bed.

"Sammy?"

Sam immediately tensed up on hearing that voice. It was cold, completely devoid of emotion, and when a hard green gaze came into view, he panicked.

_Oh god. He __**was**__ there!_

_Now _he remembered what happened on Bobby's veranda, Dean's anger as he yelled at him, pulled him up from the porch swing, the intense pain in his back as he was cruelly dropped to the wooden floor.

And it looked like Dean was no less angry, just more tightly controlled.

Sam didn't want to be scared but he couldn't help it. He was tired, his back hurt, and he felt more confused than ever, not to mention worried about what his doctor wasn't telling him.

Dean was staring at him intently, and Sam couldn't read him.

In his fear, he found himself getting out of sync with the ventilator and started choking, his lungs screaming for air. Sam couldn't breathe, and he wanted the vent out _now!_

Hands scrabbling for his mouth, he could feel himself passing out.

The last thing he saw was Dean's face suddenly flooding with fear as he darted forward, gently grabbing his hands.

_**SSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSS**_

Dean had no real idea what to expect on entering Sam's room. He heard Bobby's swift intake of breath at the sight of Sam lying there so still and pale and felt sick watching the mechanical rise and fall of his little brother's chest.

He felt rung out with guilt and worry, as he watched Dr Rogers interact with Sam, listened to the one sided conversation, and found himself sighing a little with relief when Sam finally opened his eyes.

Dean used the time to get himself under control and school his features. His brother didn't yet know the full consequences of Dean's actions, and the last thing he wanted to do was freak Sam out.

When Tim left the room, Dean didn't miss the glance thrown his way.

_Keep him calm._

"Sammy?" And realised just how that sounded, even to his own ears. Heartless, emotionless.

Shit.

Dean swallowed hard as he stepped up to Sam's bedside, finding it harder than he imagined possible meeting his brother's eyes. And when he did, the anger he felt towards himself nearly spiralled out of control, and he wanted to put his fist through the wall. Fear ridden eyes gazed up at him from the bed.

His little brother was afraid of him.

Sam began losing the rhythm with the vent; Dean could see the panic on his face as his brother started choking painfully, hands reaching up and trying to rip out the tube.

Dean moved quickly before anymore damage could be done, trapping Sam's hands in his.

Sam's eyes began to roll back into his head, the cardiac monitor beeping loudly.

_Great job not freakin' him out asshole!_ Dean silently berated himself, _now for fuck say somethin' to calm him down. Let Sam know it's not __**him**__you're angry with!_

"Sammy, please don't be afraid of me. I never meant to hurt you little brother, I'd never…" his voice trailed off as he tried to get the words out.

Bobby crossed the room at that moment and crouched down. "Come on Sam, you have to calm down." He grasped Sam's shoulder and leaned into Sam's ear. "Just relax. Remember what happened the last time this happened? You almost bought yaself a cardiac arrest."

It seemed to work, but slowly, as Sam let the machine take back control, eyes blinking rapidly. Fear and uncertainty still stood out on his face, but it was gradually fading.

Both Dean and Bobby waited, hoping Sam would settle before Tim stormed back into the room and ordered them out. The monitors at the nurse's station had to have blared out at some point.

Dean reached out a hand, gently laying it on the side of Sam's head, relieved when he didn't flinch away. "Sammy I'm so sorry." Dean gazed at him sadly as he stroked Sam's fringe. "I didn't know. I just didn't know."

Bobby grinned at Sam. "So here we are again huh Sam? You scarin' the crap outta us, and I'm another grey hair closer to old age. If I even get to see old age at this rate!"

Dean smiled at that, still gripping one of Sam's hands in his. "You ok Sam?" He asked softly.

__

_**Squeeze.**__ I am now._

Leaning closer, Dean stared into Sam's eyes, seeking forgiveness. "Sam…" he whispered, trying to convey his deep regret and guilt but most of all, his love.

He found he didn't have to search too hard as Sam reached out with his free hand and weakly gripped Dean's shoulder.

_You never had to ask._

And though he smiled in response, Dean knew it wasn't over. He wondered just how long Sam's forgiving nature would last.

After all, he didn't yet know the real bad news.

_**SSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSS**_

Sam stared up at his older brother, desperately hoping this wasn't some drug induced hallucination. But when Dean reached out and ran a gentle hand through Sam's hair, whispering apologies, eyes sparkling with what looked suspiciously like unshed tears, Sam knew that this was very real. His brother was here, he was alive; what happened at Bobby's was an accident, a misunderstanding. Everything would be ok.

Right?

Sam's befuddled brain knew something _wasn't_ quite right, but his eyelids were growing heavy and his arms felt weighed down; it was his body's way of telling his mind that this could wait.

He fought to keep awake, not wanting to take his eyes off Dean for a second in case he lost him again. And god! He wanted to rip that damn tube right out of his throat.

Dean could see exhaustion setting in. "Sam, get some sleep ok? Ya need to rest kiddo. We can talk again when you're more awake and able to speak." Dean spoke softly, eyes filled with concern, calming Sam even further.

_**Squeeze. **__Ok._

Dean watched as Sam's eyes fell shut. As if reading his little brother's mind he added. "I'm not going anywhere, Sam. I promise. I'm never leaving you again."

To his surprise Dean felt Sam squeeze his hand once more.

_**SSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSS**_

Bobby watched the brothers for a while, a relieved smile on his face, then placed a light hand on Dean's shoulder.

"Why don't I get us some more coffee? I need to stretch my legs a little."

"Sure." Dean glanced up at him. "Thanks Bobby. For everything. For taken care of Sam when I…I wasn't around to." He took a shaky breath, running a hand over his tired eyes. "Hell, if I hadn't of left, Sam wouldn't be lyin' here in the first place."

"Dean, you know how Sam can be." Bobby answered truthfully. "Whether you'd been there or not, the outcome would probably have been the same. Sam would've made the same choice about rescuin' that kid."

Dean thought about that for a second.

"You're right. He would, but I should've been there to back him up." Dean stared at Sam. "What I did to him might've ruined any chance he had to walk again."

Bobby shook his head. May be when Sam woke up he'd be able to talk some sense into his brother.

"I'll go get that coffee."

_**SSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSS**_

_**Authors notes:**_

Well, the boys are reunited in every sense of the word, but for how long?

Just in case you're interested, I'd been watching Blood Diamond just before I started introducing Tim Rogers in the last chapter, so I assume that's why I had Leonardo Di Caprio's voice in my head every time I wrote Tim's dialogue.

Hope you enjoyed that, please review and let me know what you think.

Kind regards,

ST.xxx.


	4. Chapter 4

**Broken Chapter 4**

Sam turned off the engine and scrubbed a weary hand over his face. It had been the longest two weeks of his life and he felt much older than his twenty five years. But he couldn't, wouldn't give up, not on Dean. He _had_ to find him, to make things right between them.

Sam sighed blinking back tears born of exhaustion and heart ache as he pushed aside the memory of that fight. Dean was hurting, that's why he'd left.

It had only been two weeks, fourteen days, but already Sam's self-reassurances of _he'll be back. Once he's calmed down, he'll be back _were starting to wear thin. Sam was pretty certain by now that Dean had no intention of coming back, but that wasn't going to stop him.

One way or another, Sam would find him.

Getting out of the nondescript saloon Bobby had lent him, and slamming the door shut, he glanced around.

_Huh. No attendant; guess it's self service then._

Sam shrugged, opened the car's gas tank and shoved the nozzle in. He rested his back up against the car, ankles crossed; eyes closed, and let the familiar whir and deep hum of the gas pump relax him.

A loud click soon woke him up. _Too_ soon. He blinked around him, realising that the tank was now full.

_Whoa. Must've fallen asleep._

He replaced the nozzle at the pump, closed off the tank and trudged off tiredly to pay for the gas.

He didn't notice the car idling alongside the building, didn't feel the malevolent glare that followed him. There were several cars parked nearby but the whole place was eerily silent. Sam was too tired to notice.

On approaching the gas station door, he reached out to open it but to his surprise it wouldn't budge. Peering in through the glass Sam could tell that door was dead bolted. He leaned back and glared at the door as though it had personally offended him.

The 'open' sign was showing.

_If the staff are gonna fuck off for an early lunch, the least they could do is shut off the pumps and leave a note!_ Sam thought angrily. _Now I've gotta hang around 'til someone decides to show up!_

It never occurred to Sam to just drive away without paying; that was more his brother's deal.

He was about to turn away and go wait in the car when a small movement inside the store caught his eye.

_Thank god!_ And started hammering on the door, trying to attract someone's attention.

"Hey! Someone in there? Can I pay for the gas?"

He waited a few long moments before pounding his fist on the door again. "Hey! I'm not leaving 'til I pay up!"

Suddenly the door opened and a hand appeared out of the gloom of the store, grabbed Sam by the shirt front and yanked him inside, the door slamming shut behind him.

_**SSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSS**_

Dean twitched and woke suddenly. A noise of distress from the bed had Dean leaning forward in his seat, resting his elbows on the soft blankets.

"Sam? You ok dude?" He called softly.

Sam shifted restlessly, obviously in the throes of a bad dream. His older brother watched with concern as Sam whimpered a little round the vent.

"Take it easy little bro. You're safe here." Dean smiled sadly. "I should've been here sooner man, I know. But I'm here now and nothing bad's gonna happen to ya. Ya hear me? Sam?"

But Sam was locked too deeply in the nightmare to hear him.

_**SSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSS**_

Sam blinked, waiting for his eyes to adjust to the cool darkness. Gradually he was able to make out four people huddled on the store floor in front of him, one of them a young girl in her early teens. She stared up at him out of scared blue eyes.

Now Sam understood.

This was a robbery.

He found himself slammed against the wall, the impact knocking all the air out of his lungs, and a large revolver flashed in front of his face before the barrel was jammed painfully against his temple.

Ok.

So this was an _armed_ robbery.

"You a cop?" Came the gruff question from the guy pinning Sam to the wall. He was a few inches shorter than Sam, though strong, and his face was obscured by a dark blue ski mask.

Sam nearly snorted when he considered the question.

_Cop? If only you knew buddy!_

"I _said_ are you a _cop?!_ The bastard ground the barrel harder against Sam's head.

"No I'm not a cop. I'm just passing through and needed to stop for gas. Ok?" Sam rasped out, wincing in pain. He stared at his attacker and noticed the guy had vivid green eyes, just like Dean's. "Look, you can check my wallet ok?" He slowly and carefully opened his jacket.

Ski mask guy, without taking his eyes off Sam's face, reached in and snagged Sam's wallet from the inside pocket. He stepped back, gun aimed at Sam's chest, just out of kicking distance Sam noted with disgust.

Flipping open the wallet, his eyes darted downwards, narrowed for a second, then glanced back up.

"You're a reporter?"

"Uh...yeah." Sam replied, wracking his brain trying to remember which fake ID he was using today. He hoped and prayed the guy didn't ask any more questions.

Instead, Ski Mask had a good root through the wallet, removed the small amount of cash, then threw the wallet back to Sam.

"Move." Ski Mask indicated with the revolver that Sam was to join the other hostages.

Sam held out his palms in a calming gesture and inched slowly across, making sure to stand next to the child.

"Sit." Ski Mask barked out.

_You want me to roll over too? _Sam thought as he lowered himself to the floor. _I only do tricks for Scooby Snacks dude!_

The teenage girl was shaking with fear, rocking back and forth, jean-clad knees drawn up to her chest.

"It's ok," Sam whispered. "Just take it easy. I won't let them hurt you." He smiled slightly, when she rolled her head towards him. "I'm Sam."

"Lucy." She whispered back, tentatively returning the smile.

"Hi Lucy. We're all gonna be fine, just try to..." Sam was cut off by a vicious blow to the side of his head, sending him reeling onto the floor.

"No talking!" Ski Mask grabbed Sam by the scruff of the neck and forced him on to his knees. Jamming the gun into the back of Sam's head, he hissed at him. "Not a word."

Sam blinked away the dark spots dancing in front of his eyes as he tried to control his anger.

The gunman turned his attention to Lucy, who cringed in fear.

"And you, ya little bitch, if ya don't wanna know what it feels like to have a bullet in the brain, you'll stay quiet too!"

Lucy whimpered which made the guy angrier. He grabbed her by the hair and slammed her face down onto the floor, pushing the barrel into her ear. "Shaddup kid!"

Sam watched all this in horror, reaching for the girl, trying to protect her, when a loud crash sounded from across the store.

"Goddamnitsonofabitch!" And a host of other expletives roared out tainting the air an interesting shade of blue.

Ski Mask guy released his hold on the girl and rolled his eyes.

"What the hell you doin' back there huh? Just get the damn safe open, so we can quit this shithole!"

The voice, now filled with angry pain, yelled back "the bastard lied to us! This isn't the safe! It's where he keeps the fucking mouse traps." The owner of that voice suddenly appeared from behind a shelf of breakfast cereals, and Sam had a hard time trying to keep a straight face.

Ski Mask number 2 had apparently been the victim of a run in with some small planks of wood complete with wire held under extreme tension. Two mouse traps hung from his nose, one from his chin, and judging by the limp there was at least one other caught somewhere much more personal.

Sam hung his head, eyes clenched shut, his shoulders shaking with laughter.

Ski Mask number 1 clearly didn't find it that funny, because he rounded on a short heavy set guy sitting near Sam, grabbed him by his shirt and shoved the gun in the terrified man's mouth.

_Hm. Starting to see a pattern here..._ Sam turned to the girl when he heard her cry out.

"Please! Leave my daddy alone! Don't hurt him!" As she lunged forward, Sam grasped her trembling body to his chest.

"Lucy no! Don't move." Sam glanced desperately now at the kid's father, who watched his daughter with fear in his eyes. But the gunman had already turned his weapon back on Sam and Lucy, his patience wearing thin.

"Shut the fuck up you little bitch!"

The father stared at Sam, who caught the silent message. _Get my daughter out of here!_

Sam nodded and waited for an opportunity. He didn't have to wait long.

Lucy finally cracked and screamed out, trying to break away from Sam.

As Ski Mask number 1 pulled back the hammer, Lucy's father launched himself forward knocking the gunman to the ground.

Sam took off, holding the girl to his chest, shielding her. He sprinted down the aisle and ducked into the next one just as a shot rang out, blasting the shelves just above his head. Sam ran desperately for the fire exit as more shots narrowly missed, and various substances exploded under the impact. Orange juice and milk rained down from the cooling units as Sam pushed open the fire exit and shoved the kid through.

"Run Lucy! Don't look back! I'll be right behind you!"

Sam watched as Lucy disappeared, ready to stop anyone that came after her. He turned and ducked behind a shelf when he heard pounding feet, then realised his mistake. He'd gone the wrong way.

Sam turned back and headed away from the fire exit.

He heard the shots just before they struck, felt the lead slugs bury themselves deep into his back as a grunt was wrenched out of his mouth. Sam was jerked forward under the force and 

he landed face down on the floor. Then the pain hit him, and he laid there, head to one side, breathing heavily in shock as a slow warmth spilled down his back and over his hip.

A large pair of black boots appeared in front of him, and Sam glanced up blinking rapidly, already feeling his life-force ebbing away. The gunman, revolver aimed at Sam's face, slowly lifted his ski mask and green eyes stared out at him, filled with a familiar humour. Then came the familiar smirk, which added considerable insult to already even more considerable injury.

"Gotcha." And Dean squeezed the trigger.

_**SSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSS**_

_**Authors notes:**_

Hurhurhur...and yet another cliffie. Oh dear, oh dear, oh dear!

What _have _I done?

Let me know what you think eh? And maybe I'll up date again soon.

Thanks for all your great reviews. Love ya all!

Kind regards,

ST.xxx.


	5. Chapter 5

**Broken Chapter 5**

Dean sighed heavily as leaned over his brother and gently brushed a few strands of hair off his forehead. It had been two days since Dr Rogers had decided Sam was strong enough for extubation, but the kid hadn't been truly coherent in all that time. Tim was concerned about the amount of pain Sam was in, and had administered a pretty powerful, morphine-based pain reliever intravenously.

Powerful it might have been. It might've saved Sam from physical pain, but it clearly wasn't saving him from the nightmares. Dean frowned worriedly. Sam was being mentally tortured in his drug-induced sleep, and Dean's guilt had edged up a notch when Bobby had told him Sam had been virtually nightmare free before this latest injury.

_The injury that I caused him. What the hell else did I do to him?_

Sam's breathing suddenly picked up.

_Here we go again. _Thought Dean in despair.

It often started this way, and then Sam would moan softly, his head rolling back and forth, his body twitching as if Sam was trying to back away from something, then he would cry out in terror, but it seemed to Dean as though he could hear something else; there was a tinge of pain, sadness and heartbreak in Sam's voice.

Dean made up his mind that when his little brother was awake enough the two of them were going to have a very long talk. He was ninety percent certain that he was the cause of Sam's anguish, and he needed, _Sam_ needed, to get to the bottom of it before it drove them both crazy.

"No...not you...can't be...you wouldn't...Dean..."

Dean sat up straight on hearing that. It was the first time Sam had called his name during a nightmare and that surely wasn't a good sign.

Sam panted, whimpering in between each breath.

"Dean...please...don't..."

Dean grasp Sam's hand in his. "Don't what Sammy?" He whispered softly, dreading the answer.

Sam rolled his head towards Dean, as if seeking his older brother even in his nightmare-plagued sleep.

"Please... don't hate me...m'sorry..."

"Sammy." Dean brought Sam's hand up to his own cheek, tears leaking from the corners of his eyes. "I never hated you little brother."

But Sam couldn't hear him, and his cries grew louder, more anxious, more terror filled.

"No. No... NO!" Sam flinched then fell silent and still.

"God Sam, what the hell have I done to you?" Dean asked his unconscious brother, not for the first time.

_**SSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSS**_

Bobby poked his head round the door of Sam's room.

"How's he doin'?"

When Dean looked up Bobby was shocked at the dark shadows under his eyes and the tight lines of anguish bracketing his mouth.

Bobby moved further into the room. "Dean? What's goin' on?"

Dean hung his head and closed his eyes for a second, before turning to stare back up at the older hunter.

"Sam's still having nightmares...but this last one." He shook his head in despair. "He called my name. I don't know Bobby. I think maybe his dreams are about me...about what I did to him."

"Now hold on there. You don't know that..."

But Dean interrupted him. "Yeah, I do." He stared at Sam. "And he doesn't even know yet. He doesn't even know that he may never walk again." Grasping Sam's hand tightly, as though he was a lifeline, he ran his sleeve over his eyes. "Sam's gonna hate me." He glanced back up at Bobby. "And he has every right to."

Bobby watched him sadly. Leaning over, he patted Dean awkwardly on the shoulder. "Let's not jump the train here. Why don't you give Sam a little more credit than that? That boy loves you; you've been his brother, father and best friend since the day the kid was born." Bobby crouched down and stared into Dean's eyes. "You've been gone a long time. Dya really think Sam's gonna let go of you so easily again?"

Dean sniffed. "I wouldn't blame 'im if he did."

Then he flinched as Bobby cuffed him lightly round the ear.

"Now don't you go second guessin' him ok? The poor kid's not even awake yet, and you're already judgin' him! And that's not fair to Sam." Bobby huffed at little as he glanced at Sam. "The last time you did that, you left. Just look at the consequences of that..."

Dean followed Bobby's gaze, wondering how in hell his friend had read his mind so easily.

But in truth, Dean _had_ made a promise to Sam.

He wasn't gonna leave him. No matter what happened.

_**SSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSS**_

Sam stared into Dean's eyes fearfully, trying to call out.

_Please...Dean...don't...don't hate me._

But he couldn't speak through the pain in his back. He could almost feel the lead buried deep within him.

His eyes widened when his brother raised his revolver, inwardly wincing as the barrel seemed to line up with his forehead.

_Dean...no...please help me...it hurts..._

"_Gotcha!_

_**SSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSS**_

Sam woke up in a frenzy.

"Oh god! No!" The shakes wracking his body caused a sharp pain in his back and he cried out.

A soft, anguish-filled voice broke through the agony, comforting him. He knew that voice. It beckoned him.

"Sam, take it easy little brother." Dean watched as Sam blinked up at him, the terror gradually draining away. "It's ok. Tim gave you something to help with the pain, but it shouldn't knock you out so much. Just stay still and relax. You're safe here." He stroked Sam's hair soothingly as he spoke, noting with some relief that the panic was fading from his little brother's eyes.

"Dean, you're still here right? I'm not dreaming this?"

"Yeah, I'm still here Sam." Dean smiled a little sadly. His brother was still afraid Dean would leave. Leaning forward he asked "do you remember what you were dreaming about Sam? You seemed to be havin' some trouble in that freaky head of yours."

Sam appeared to think about it for a second. "I...no. I don't. Not really. Just flash backs and...and stuff."

Dean nodded. _He's lying._

And that hurt a little, but he guessed at this stage he had no real right to press the issue.

Time for that later.

Dean sighed. "Bobby told me about the gas station robbery. Gotta tell ya dude. That was pretty stupid."

Sam heard what he was really saying, mainly because the pride evident in Dean's voice was the giveaway.

_I'm proud of ya Sammy._

Sam threw him a troubled smiled. In truth, Sam wasn't exactly sure what was going on here, but he'd studied a little psychology at Stanford and recognised the signs, which was why he felt no fear towards Dean.

But he wasn't ready to talk about _that_.

So he settled for answering Dean's next question.

"Can you tell me Sam? I need to know what happened." It wasn't said forcefully. It was asked with a soft patience and a quiet need to understand.

And Sam knew where he was coming from; he'd want to know if their positions were reversed.

So he started to explain. Sam deliberately left out the ending, because he truly couldn't remember that much after getting shot. He heard Dean's brief growls of anger at Sam telling him how it felt to have that gun jammed into his skull. Saw Dean clench his jaw when he heard about Sam being hit round the head when he tried to protect the child.

But when he spoke of running desperately through the store, carrying the girl to safety, only to wind up getting shot in the back, Dean got up and started pacing angrily.

Sam watched anxiously, waiting for Dean to blow up at him for being so stupid. But it didn't happen. The next question surprised the hell outta him.

"Did they catch 'em?"

Sam shivered at little at the cold, angry tone, then pulled himself together. Dean wasn't angry at _him._..

He hesitated before answering. "No. They got away."

Dean stared at him. "Any idea who they were? Did ya get to see their faces?"

Sam, staring back, schooled himself for the biggest lie yet.

"No. I never got a look at them."

An uncomfortable silence descended as Dean continued staring hard at Sam. He nodded again, unwilling to push his brother too much at this stage.

That could wait.

A soft knock on the door startled the pair of them, and Tim stepped into the room.

"Hey there Sam. How ya feelin'?" Tim smiled brightly, in spite of the obvious tension in the room.

Sam returned the smile with a shaky one of his own. "Better actually. When can I get started back on physical therapy?"

Tim paused, then turned to Dean. "Could I just have a minute with Sam? I promise I won't take too long."

Dean dropped his gaze to the tiled floor and nodded. "Sure. Take all the time you need." He knew what was coming, so he briefly squeezed his little brother's hand, keeping his eyes away from Sam's, then left the room. Dean wanted to be there when Sam was told but somehow felt he owed him a little privacy.

Once the door had closed, Tim turned his attention to Sam, who was gazing at him worriedly.

"Tim? What is it?" Sam felt anxiety creep in when his doctor didn't answer straight away.

"Please tell me!"

Tim took a deep breath then leaned forward, placing his elbows on his knees, hands clasped together. "Sam, as you know, you were scheduled for surgery this week to remove the bullet..."

"Yeah, but you got it out this time, right?" Sam asked desperately, but knowing that the news wasn't good.

"No. I'm afraid not. You were bleeding way too much, and by the time we were able to find it again it was almost too late." Tim glanced at Sam sadly. "I tried Sam, but you would've died if I'd left it any longer."

Sam huffed and stared at his hands, knotted together in his lap. "So what does that mean exactly?" He glanced up again, eyes beseeching. _Please tell me..._

"Sam, I'm sorry. But I don't want to risk going in again, not for some time. Your back needs to heal again. And I think you should know that after this latest episode?" Tim shrugged apologetically. "I honestly don't think..."

"No!" Sam nearly yelled, then lowered his voice to a whisper. "No. Don't tell me that. I don't wanna hear it ok?" His voice rose again to an angry shout. "Don't you tell me I won't walk again!"

"Sam..."

"NO! I've worked too long and too hard for this. You said one day I would get outta that god damned wheel chair and I would walk again. You said that...you said given time..." Sam's voice faltered as he gave in to the tears threatening to spill down his face.

"You said given time I'd be normal again." He whispered desperately.

"I'm sorry Sam. That was true before this, but now..." Tim sighed. "Listen, Sam, nothin's set in stone ok buddy? I'm not saying it'll never happen; I'm just saying that the odds are really stacked against you now." He placed a hand on Sam's shoulder and squeezed gently. "and I know you don't want to think about it right now, but maybe we should discuss the various options available to you."

"Like what?" Sam retorted angrily. "Any chance of a spinal cord transplant? Huh? May be an entire body transplant?"

"I'm talking about rehabilitation courses; there are people that can help you..."

"I'm not interested! I'm gonna walk again! I'm not giving' up!" Sam gritted his teeth and forced out. "Winchesters _don't_ give up!"

There was a pause before Tim nodded and stood. "We'll talk about this later Sam. In the mean time, I'm pretty sure you're brother's outside waiting to be let back in..."

"No. I don't wanna see anyone!" Sam lowered his tone, aware that he was sounding like a spoilt brat. "I'm sorry...I just need some time. I can't face anyone just yet."

Tim nodded slowly. "Ok Sam. I'll make sure your brother stays away for a while, but we do need to talk about this, and I'm pretty sure Dean's gonna _need_ to talk to you." He patted Sam's shoulder. "In the meantime, I think you're due some more pain meds so I'll send someone in shortly. Ok?" He tilted his head slightly awaiting an answer, not liking the look on Sam's face.

Sam just nodded and turned his face towards the window, effectively dismissing his doctor.

As Tim left, Sam felt himself cave in. All that talk about walking again and Winchesters not giving up just sounded...fucking stupid now.

His thoughts spiralled downwards as depression took a firm hold.

_Dean won't want to stick around with me like this. He always wanted to hunt, that's what he lives for. I can't help him. All this time I searched for him, and now...I'm useless. But then I guess I always have been._

When the door opened and a nurse entered pushing a pharmacy cart, Sam stared at her.

"Could you help me into my chair, please? I just wanna sit by the window." Sam smiled, fixing her with the puppy dog eyes.

"Of course." The nurse was new around here and fell for the Sammy-eyes instantly. Pushing the trolley over, she turned to help him out of bed, into his wheel chair, then positioned him by the window.

"It's a nice day out. You should get your brother to take you round the gardens this afternoon." She smiled at him, then turned away to the back of the cart to measure out Sam's medication.

Whilst her back was turned, a desperate Sam grabbed the opportunity. His hunting skills meant that he could lift what he wanted without the young nurse even suspecting. When she turned back, Sam smiled slightly and accepted the pills with a gulp of water.

He didn't bother watching her as she left, and just went back to staring out the window.

_**SSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSS**_

"How did he take it?" Dean asked anxiously, getting out of the way of the drugs trolley as a young nurse smiled and pushed open Sam's door.

Tim shook his head and remained silent for a long moment before speaking again. "About as well as can be expected." He turned his gaze to the ceiling. "Not well at all in fact. Listen, he said he wanted some time alone but once he's had his medication I think you should get back in there. I'm worried about him."

Dean was instantly on the alert. "Why? He's ok right? Apart from the obvious?"

He stepped back as the nurse wheeled the drugs cabinet back out of Sam's room. Tim waited until the young woman was out of ear shot.

"Dean, Sam's worked so hard this last sixth months and this..." He lowered his head, staring at the floor before raising his gaze to Dean's. "This is a real blow to him dude. I'm not sure how much more he can take. He was about ready to lose it in there."

Dean felt a prickle of fear worm its way down his spine at Tim's words, and he backed away before turning on his heel and pounding on Sam's door. "Sam? I'm comin' in like it or not."

When no answer came Dean wrenched open the door and strode over to his little brother, who was now sitting in a wheel chair by the window. He crouched down to eye level with Sam, his brow furrowed with worry.

"Sam?" He whispered softly. "You ok?"

Sam slowly turned his head to look at him, and Dean noted that his eyes were glazing over.

"Sam?" Dean's worry increased when Sam didn't answer and just stared at him, _through_ him. Grasping Sam's shoulder and giving it a gentle shake elicited no reaction...except the noise of something falling to the floor and clattering along the tiles.

Dean reached out and picked up the pill bottle, and immediately realised it was empty.

His head shot up in shock.

"Sam! You stupid bastard! What have you done!?" Dean yelled angrily, fear evident on his face.

Sam smiled slightly and blinked lazily.

"I've made things right again." He whispered.

As sad tears rolled down his face, Sam's eyes slid shut.

_**SSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSS**_

_**Authors notes:**_

So...left you with a few things to think about there maybe?

Reviews on how evil I am are, of course, always welcome.

I changed my mind several times about this chapter, but decided to go with it, 'cos, well, you never know eh? Thought it might be an interesting line to follow...

Don't worry though, Dean's on it!

Kind regards,

ST.xxx.


	6. Chapter 6

**Broken Chapter 6**

"TIM!" Dean roared as his brother slumped forward. Catching and lowering him to the floor, Dean kicked away the wheelchair and frantically started checking Sam's pulse and breathing, all the while muttering in panic and fear.

"Sam, wake up. Don't do this to me. This isn't the way Sammy, it's never the way!" Dean held Sam in his arms, rocking to and fro, as Dr Rogers appeared in the doorway.

Tim's eyes widened almost comically when he saw Dean kneeling on the floor with an unconscious Sam cradled against him. "What the hell happened?" He was beside Dean in an instant, stethoscope at the ready.

Dean, not bothering to wipe away the tears didn't even look up as he handed over the empty container. Sam's doctor immediately recognising its significance, darted over to the bed and pressed the call button several times.

All the while his own earlier thoughts came back to haunt him.

_Everyone has their breaking point..._

_Even the strong and the brave..._

_It was too soon. He wasn't ready. This is my fault._

"Dean, lay him down flat. I need to check his airway's clear." Tim grabbed an oxygen cylinder from next to Sam's bed. "He's overdosed on salicylate."

Dean shook his head. "What?"

"Aspirin." After tilting Sam's head back, he fixed an oxygen mask tightly over Sam's mouth and nose. "Sam's taken a potentially lethal dose and it's sent him straight into a coma. 

Respiratory and cardiac arrest will soon follow if we don't get that stuff out of his system...Over here!" Tim called out as a team of nurses arrived. "Get the crash cart ready, I want some arterial blood gases on this kid _immediately!_ Call Jerry in Toxicology and tell him we have a white male, early to mid twenties, attempted suicide with aspirin..."

Dean only half listened to Sam's doctor barking out instructions; his heart was pounding so hard he was amazed he could hear anything at all. He did pick out one thing loud and clear, however, and his mind soon latched on, refusing to let go.

..._attempted suicide..._

_God Sam! What have you done?_

_...attempted suicide..._

He watched Sam's face for any sign of movement, any indication that he might wake up and announce that this was just a very bad, _crazy,_ dream. But Sam had been living in his own bad crazy dream for the last sixth months, and it had finally taken its toll.

_**SSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSS**_

"How long's it been?" Bobby appeared in Dean's line of sight, out of breath having run in from the parking lot. He was still struggling to believe what Dean had told him over the phone.

Dean scrubbed a hand over his face before glancing at his watch. "A little under an hour."

Bobby nodded before collapsing into the chair next to Dean. He should have seen this coming.

Sam had been so strong, always coping and never giving in, but now it seemed he'd been pushed too far. It proved to Bobby just how much Sam had been clinging to hope since the 

robbery, his never ending optimism a cover for all the fear and hurt. Bobby had suspected as much, but every time he'd tried to approach the subject Sam had gently brushed him off with a bright smile and a wink.

Whilst hope was a powerful motivator (_one should never leave home without it_ Sam had once said jokingly) it also carried the power to crush, to immobilise, to _defeat._ By trying to take his own life, Sam had shown Bobby he hadn't truly ever entertained the prospect that he'd never walk again, just as he'd never seriously believed he wouldn't see his brother again.

Bobby felt the guilt growing. _Yeah, I shouldda seen this comin'._

If he'd forced Sam to listen, to talk it through, maybe this could have been avoided. But instead he'd allowed Sam to carry on with the facade, pretending that everything would eventually be fine. Sam would walk, Dean would return, cancer would be cured, pigs would fly, and world peace would finally reign. Sure, he _did_ actually have a decent chance of walking before this latest incident, but it had always been only a relatively small one.

But just as sure as pigs would never be granted a pilot's licence, things _never_ go according to plan. And while Bobby should have been preparing Sam for the worst, he'd let him down.

It had just seemed _easier_ to go along with it, and so he found himself caught up in Sam's enthusiasm.

He was shaken out of his guilt ridden thoughts when Dean suddenly got up and paced. After a couple of passes, he stopped and slammed the palm of his hand against the wall, leaning into it, head hung low, chin on chest. It was a stance Bobby had seen a few times before whenever Dean was frustrated, angry, or scared. And right now Bobby was willing to bet Dean was feeling all three.

Bobby waited until he heard Dean get his breathing back under control before speaking.

"How ya doin' there kid?"

Dean was silent for so long that Bobby wondered if he was going to answer. Nostrils flaring and body tense with emotion, Dean eventually replied.

"It was too close Bobby. If I hadn't gone back into that room..." Dean turned red rimmed eyes on his old friend. "Tim said he'd taken a massive overdose of aspirin. _What the hell was Sam thinking?_" He turned and paced again. "The stupid, _selfish_, sonofabitch!"

"That's enough!" Bobby's sharp tone could have cut through steel, and Dean stopped pacing and glanced at him, more than a little startled. "Firstly, Sam is not, and has never been, selfish. If he was then he probably wouldn't have got shot in the first place. Secondly, if you had any idea what that kid's been through since you left, all the hours of physical therapy, the pain, the uncertainty he faced _every single godamned day_, then that's last word you'd use to describe your brother. If you want to blame someone then blame me for not making Sam face up to things and keep his hopes from goin' through the friggin' roof, blame the gunman for shootin' him, hell why not even blame Tim for not puttin' him back together!"

Dean fell silent again as he considered Bobby's words.

"No. I blame myself for coming back. If I'd stayed away Sam wouldn't be facing a future in a wheelchair." Dean whispered to the wall.

"Dean, Sam loves you. I for one am damned glad you came back 'cos your brother needed you. Needs you more than ever now. Whether he knew it or not, he always has, always will." Bobby watched him carefully. "Don't give up on yourself, Dean. Sam won't, even if he's given up on himself."

The last sentence made Dean wince a little, before he gave a sharp nod.

Bobby hadn't realised he'd been holding his breath until he saw Dean's silent agreement.

_Thank god that's settled._

"Now. What did Tim say? How're they dealing with this?" Bobby sat back down and Dean followed.

Dean ran a hand through his hair. "Uh...he introduced a specialist in Toxicology. He started going on about stomach pumps, using activated charcoal, and checking Sam's salicylate levels every few hours. Somethin' 'bout getting Sam's blood pH levels back to normal." He glanced over at Bobby. "Then Tim started on about getting a psychiatric evaluation. Said that once Sam's better he's gonna need counselling, that this isn't over and he might try again." Dean swallowed hard round the lump in his throat. "Might even succeed next time." He whispered hoarsely.

"We won't let that happen, Dean." Bobby leaned forward in his seat to rest his elbows on his knees. "Even if it means watching Sam 24/7, he won't get another chance to hurt himself. He _will_ be ok. We have to trust in that."

Dean nodded and glanced down at his hands, fingers absentmindedly fiddling. "Yeah. I'll be watching him alright, and if I have to tie 'im to the wheelchair then so be it." He turned to face Bobby once again, renewed resolve in his voice as well as his eyes. "Sam's gonna survive this whether he wants to or not."

Bobby gave him an approving half-smile in answer.

_**SSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSS**_

As much as Dean was desperate to see his brother, he needed to arm himself with knowledge first. He requested a meeting with Tim, who immediately agreed.

"What do I need to know? How can we help Sam?" Were the first questions Dean fired at Sam's doctor. Bobby, who had been Sam's main carer for the last sixth months, was also present, anxious to hear the answers.

Tim nodded then glanced briefly over Sam's notes. "First of all, this latest news has hit Sam pretty hard so before anyone bursts into his room shouting and screaming at him, just remember what he's been through. He's clinically depressed and his self-esteem is all shot to hell. The last thing he needs is a guilt trip. What he needs is to feel he can discuss his problems freely and openly, that you care and really want to help. Listen to what he tells you and treat it seriously, and most certainly don't launch into arguments about whether suicide is right or wrong. Sam's case is different from most suicide attempts. Remember, his was _more _than just an attempt. He wasn't doing it as a cry for help; he was seriously trying to end his life."

Dean swallowed hard, his heart pounding with fear as Tim's words sunk in.

"Does he have to stay here? Or can we bring him home once he's better." Bobby asked, and Dean nervously awaited the answer.

Tim sat back and considered that one. "Honestly? If you guys feel you can cope, I'd rather Sam was around his family in a non-clinical environment. He's spent an awful lotta time in hospital recently and I think it would be good for him to receive counselling in his own home."

Both Dean and Bobby visibly relaxed at that.

"But I must caution you." Tim continued. "Don't leave him alone, at least not for long. I don't want to put him on anti-depressants if we can avoid it at this stage." Tim was a firm believer in tackling problems head-on and only resorted to prescribing such drugs if there was 

no other way. "Especially with the meds he's on already for the pain; that would make quite the cocktail."

They talked in earnest for a while longer, then Tim finished up by agreeing to organise a counsellor for a home visit as soon as Sam was well enough to be released.

It was a very solemn Dean and Bobby that made their way to Sam's room. They agreed to go in only one at a time at this stage, not wanting frighten or overwhelm Sam.

Bobby graciously suggested Dean go in first.

_**SSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSS**_

"Sammy?" Dean called gently.

Sam was staring out the window and didn't seem to hear his brother calling to him. Dean moved further into the room before asking him again.

"Sam talk to me? Please?"

The softly, sadly, spoken answer finally came...and it broke Dean's heart.

"You're gonna leave again aren't you? I...I'm not strong enough, never have been. I let you down, always letting you down. I don't deserve to be here...I should've died that day. Should've died _today._ Why didn't you just let me go?" Sam fell silent.

"Sammy" One carefully whispered word and Dean was across the room and doing the Dean Winchester Unthinkable.

Sam found himself swept up in his brother's arms, and it scared him. It offered him a hope, a _life, _he felt didn't belong to him. So he fought, arms hitting out, trying to drive his brother away.

But this time it wasn't going to work, and Dean held on tight, remembering Bobby's words, pinning Sam's arms.

"Never again, Sammy. I've already told you that. I'm not leaving you again." Dean smoothed Sam's hair away from his eyes. "I can't ever let you go. I might have left, but I never let you go. Not once." It was true. Dean had never stopped worrying about his little brother in all that time they were apart. He just hadn't realised it 'til now.

Sam eventually fell into an uneasy sleep with Dean holding him in a tight hug.

_I'm not giving up on you. Never could. Never will._

**SSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSS**

_**Authors notes:**_

_Well that was depressing eh?_

_But at least Sam has his brother totally on board now._

_And as I once said in a previous chapter, I can still hear Leo Di Caprio as Tim. In fact, I can **see** him in the role and he'd be great!_

_Love you all._

_Kind regards,_

_ST.xxx._


	7. Chapter 7

**Broken Chapter 7**

Tim glared at the x-ray film once more, as though daring it to defy him. But there it was; the first bullet. Sighing in frustration he learned closer as if further scrutiny would change things for the better.

A knock drew him out of his thoughts and he turned to find Bobby Singer's anxious face peering round the door. "You wanted to speak to me son?"

"Yeah. Thanks. Please come in." Tim indicated the chair opposite his. "Take a seat. Where's Dean?" His sharp, overly-professional manner already clued Bobby in.

"He didn't want to leave Sam so I said I'd fill him in later." Bobby replied as he sat down. Then he leaned forward studying the young doctor's face as closely as Tim had studied Sam's x-ray. "I'm guessin' by the look on yer face, _and_ that you've fiddled endlessly with your stethoscope since I stepped in the room that it aint good news." Bobby raised an eyebrow enquiringly.

Tim gave out a nervous chuckle as he hastily took the stethoscope from round his neck and shoved it in his pocket. Not wanting to delay Sam's treatment any longer he wasted no more time. "You're right. It _aint_ good news..."

_**SSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSS**_

Dean yawned lazily. He reached up and scratched his chest, tried but failed to stretch, and promptly fell off the seat.

_Seat? What the hell am I doin' sleeping on a seat? And one that likely came from a store called Hell's Furniture: Come and get your very own haemorrhoids while you sit!_

Thinking that maybe it was time to open his eyes, Dean took the plunge.

_Hmm. That's why._ He got to his feet then stood and leaned over his little brother, watching his features carefully. Sam was out for the count, not one muscle twitching, not even in his face. He was sound asleep. After the suicide attempt one of the nurses had suggested placing Sam in soft restraints for his own good, but Dean had hotly protested. He didn't want to see his normally strong and proud brother chained up like some kind of animal. No. Dean decided to stand as Sam's own personal guard dog; Sam had had enough control over his body, his _life_, ripped away from him as it was. Tying him down just seemed too cruel and undignified. Sam's doctor, whom Dean was fast becoming fond of and already had a mountain of respect for, had agreed. Tim had popped in from time to time whilst Sam was sleeping and they'd had some pretty decent chats. Dean found that Sam's doctor was easy to talk to, and soon realised why Bobby trusted him so much.

Nurses, specialists, and doctors alike were going to have to get used to Dean being there. Wherever Sam went, his older brother would shadow him. Dean was determined to be involved every step of the way, and not just to make sure Sam got the best treatment to ensure his recovery. It was Dean's way of proving to Sam that he wasn't going anywhere.

When Sam made a soft sleepy noise Dean reached through the bed railings and grasped his hand.

"Hey kiddo. There's no rush ok? Take as long as you need. I'll be here when you wake up." As desperate as he was to talk to his brother, to kick start the healing process Dean knew these things couldn't be rushed. Sam needed to rest, and Dean, still reeling from the events of the last few days, needed some quiet time of his own.

Thinking didn't seem like such a hot idea right now, but it had to be done. Dean felt his heart clench and unclench with each and every near miss. Dropping Sam to the floor, unknowing of the devastation it would cause. Sam's ghastly appearance as he emerged from the ambulance, his doctor announcing a bleed, emergency surgery, Bobby's account of what happened at the gas station six months ago, _Sam's_ account of it, Sam's nightmares and calling out his brother's name, Tim's revelation that Sam probably wouldn't walk again, Sam trying to kill himself...

Jesus! Much more of this and Dean was gonna be a heart attack victim by the time he hit thirty. But the part that was bugging him the most was the gunman. He'd shot Sam in the back, twice. Dean wasn't sure why but he was pretty certain Sam had seen his attacker's face, but why would Sam lie about it? And if it were true, was Sam still in danger? Supposing the guy came back to finish what he started?

His previous conversations with Sam had created more questions than had been answered.

_**SSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSS**_

Sometime later it was a more-sombre-than-usual-Bobby that made his way back to Sam's room. Dean glanced over at him as he entered, and frowned.

"What's wrong?"

Bobby stared hard at Sam for a second then turned to his older brother. "Maybe we should talk outside."

"No way." Dean immediately shook his head. "I'm gonna be here when we wakes up. Just talk quietly; he's dead to the world right now anyway." And winced when he said that.

_I sure hope we can look back on this and laugh one day, though somehow I doubt it._

Bobby huffed and leaned against the wall. "Tim's been looking at Sam's latest x-rays. He had some more taken just after Sam...well...ya know."

Dean nodded. Thinking it was one thing, but saying it out loud was completely another. It was so _unlike_ the Sam he knew to give up and try taking his own life. But there was no time to brood. Judging by Bobby's demeanour, there was a serious issue lurking in the wings.

"I'm not sure I understand all the terminology here, but it seems as though the bullet is in a precarious position." Bobby continued in a low voice. "It's unstable, and if it shifts again not only will it cause worse damage to Sam's spinal cord but it may kill him outright. It's too close to one of the major blood vessels, and with the angle it's at any movement could cause a massive bleed, one that could make the one he's already had look like a trickle." Bobby shifted his weight a little under Dean's worried stare. "And apparently it won't take much to shift it. A small knock, a sudden fall, or even just over-exertion could trigger it."

"What's Tim wanna do?" Dean asked, his voice tight with anxiety. He already knew the answer but wanted to hear it for himself.

"More surgery. He believes that bullet has to come out; it's essential now to save Sam's life." Bobby stared out the window expectantly. He knew Dean well enough to predict how he would react to that.

"For God's sake Bobby! Sam's already had major surgery and he's not even close to fully recovered from it!" But Dean's explosion was a quiet one, unwilling to disturb his brother. He got up and, predictably, paced.

But quietly.

"Yeah. Tim aint too happy 'bout that either. But he thinks we can't afford to wait much longer. It's plain ol' catch twenty two."

If Sam didn't have the bullet removed he stood a huge chance of dying, but the surgery itself wasn't without danger: it was just as risky as letting the bullet remain. Bobby followed Dean's movements with his eyes. This was gonna be a tough one to bring up. "He suspects the bullet moved slightly after the overdose, probably when Sam was lowered to the floor. Then, of course, he had a stomach pump which didn't help."

Dean halted. "How much more crap am I gonna put on Sam before he winds up dead 'cos of me?!"

"Now hold on son, don't get carried away. Tim aint sayin' it's your fault. Just the opposite in fact. You stormed into Sam's room and discovered what he'd done before it was too late, you acted quickly and saved his life." Bobby grabbed Dean's shoulder before the pacing could continue. "But that aint the issue now. Tim's gettin' scrubbed up as we speak and the nurses are preparin' the OR, so let's just..."

"No."

Dean and Bobby's heads shot round in shock. They hadn't realised Sam had woken up, and it was clear by the dull expression on his face that he'd heard everything.

Dean hung his head for a second before sitting back down. "Sam..."

"No." Sam whispered again. "No more surgery."

Sighing in frustration, Dean glared at Sam. He was trying hard not to be angry but his little brother was trying his patience. "Without it there's a good chance you'll die. I know that's what you wanted but I had high hopes you'd changed ya God damn mind by now!" He replied more bitterly than he'd intended.

"Dean..."

"You're having that surgery Sam, if I have to forge your signature on the consent form and knock you out myself!" Ok, so he'd wanted Sam to get some sense of control back but not at the expense of his life. Dean loomed over his little brother threateningly, "I'm not letting you give up! You're not throwing your life away!"

He expected a reaction, a scowl, a glare, an angry retort, _anything._ But what he actually got was..._nothing._

Just a sad, steady gaze that shocked Dean into silence. It was loaded with weariness and when Sam spoke softly once again, he had to look away.

"I can't do this anymore Dean. There's been too much false hope and denial, too much pain and suffering." Sam reached out and gently touched Dean's arm. "I just don't think I can go through it all again. I don't have any more to give."

Dean looked down at his brother's hand, then reached out and gripped it tightly before fixing Sam with an equally steady gaze. "Maybe I have enough for the both of us, Sam. Just...please... have the surgery. Don't give up Sammy. We can get through this, but you gotta have faith in yourself." He gave a faint grin. "And me."

Sam sighed a little and stared at his hand clenched in Dean's. He got the sudden weirdest feeling that the gesture was almost symbolic. They'd come full circle once again.

No matter how far apart they were, no matter how far one of them strayed, they always found themselves back at this point.

Sam really didn't think he had the emotional resources to deal with all this again, but Dean obviously did. And that gave Sam back a little of the hope he thought had escaped him.

But he also realised that he couldn't do it to his brother. They'd both lost so much, and Dean had almost lost _him_. Sam was finally starting to understand what Dean had been trying to tell him. He'd never hated him; leaving Sam sixth months ago was just anger and fear manifesting in self-protect mode.

Slowly raising his head, his eyes connecting with Dean's, Sam swallowed hard.

Then nodded.

"I'll try, but I can't make any promises. And for the record," Sam gave a slight, sad smile. "I never lost faith in you Dean. I just got a little outta my depth."

His brother squeezed his hand tightly again before smiling back, though it didn't reach his eyes. "That happens again? You talk to me ya hear?" His voice became hard with desperation. "Don't go hurting yourself again. 'Cos when you do that? It's not just you you're hurtin'. Understand?"

Nodding again, Sam squeezed back.

"Bobby? Can you let Tim know Sam's ready?" Dean glanced over to see Bobby watching them with barely concealed affection.

"I'll be back in a sec." Just as he turned to go, Bobby called out softly. "You're making the right decision Sam. I'm proud of you."

_**SSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSS**_

Tim hadn't meant to eavesdrop but as he'd approached the door to Sam's room there was no helping it. He'd held his breath when Dean was trying to talk Sam into having the surgery, and breathed out in relief when it worked. If it hadn't then he was right behind Dean on the forged-signature-knocking-him-out plan, even it _was_ unethical. He shook his head, then quickly stepped back when he heard movement behind the door. When Bobby peered out at him, Tim got the distinct impression the older man knew exactly what he'd been doing. An appraising stare and a quick grin confirmed his suspicions, and Tim grinned back.

"I take it that my patient is ready? Great. Dean can accompany him to the waiting area outside the OR but after we anaesthetise him, he'll have to leave." Tim smiled apologetically. "As soon as we're done I'll come see ya both."

"Any idea how long it'll take? Or is that a stupid question?" Bobby asked, leaning against the door frame.

"God knows!"

"So, stupid question then?"

"Yup."

The two men stood there for a moment in silence. Both were worried about Sam and what lay ahead for him, but now they were also worried about his brother. Tim had spent some time listening to Dean talk about Sam when he was growing up, and it was obvious that the two of them were close. Tim was a good listener in every sense of the word, and didn't miss the subtle signs of a strong brotherly bond, in spite of all the ups and downs that accosted most, if not all sibling relationships.

Sam was Dean's best friend. And from the way Sam had spoken about his older brother in the past, it was a friendship that was clearly reciprocated.

Tim suddenly felt the world come to rest heavily upon his shoulders.

If something went wrong during the op, he'd never forgive himself.

Damn shame there was so much _to_ go wrong.

_**SSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSS**_

Dean followed Sam's gurney right up 'til they reached the doors of the OR, and never once let go of his hand. He could tell that Sam was scared, and that made him smile. If his little brother was scared then that meant he truly hadn't given up hope. He _wanted_ to live.

"Ok Sammy, here we are." He brushed a strand of hair from Sam's forehead and smiled into his eyes. "It's all up hill from now on kiddo. You're gonna get through this ok?"

"Yeah." Sam whispered back nervously. He was lying on his stomach with his head turned to the side so he could keep his eyes on his brother. "Look Dean, if anything happens..."

Dean cut him off with a stern scowl. "Don't you talk like that. You're comin' outta there alive and breathin' or I swear I'll kill you myself!"

Sam smirked a little at that, but it soon faded as his eyes darkened with fear once more. Dean stroked his thumb over Sam's knuckle.

"I'll still be here when it's over." Both boys had lost count of the number of times he'd said words to that effect, but Sam felt safer every time he heard them.

_**SSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSS**_

Bobby was angry, no _furious_ was a better word. He'd spent months trying to keep Sam's identity and whereabouts out of the press. And now this.

He slammed the newspaper down on the waiting room table in front of Dean, who stared at the headlines through bleary eyes.

_**Local hero tries to take his own life. True identity revealed.**_

_Twenty four year old reporter Nick Harper became a hero sixth months ago when he saved a young girl's life during an armed robbery. He was shot in the back and left paralysed from the waist down. A subsequent leak to this newspaper has revealed that Harper's real name is Sam Winchester, formerly of Stanford, California, whose brother Dean Winchester was shot dead in St Louis a few years ago. Dean Winchester, of no fixed abode, had been wanted for kidnapping and murder. _

_The claim continues that Sam Winchester was admitted to the local hospital four days ago. It is firmly believed that the young man in question suffered a psychotic break and tried to _

_commit suicide by taking a cocktail of illegal narcotics. Due to some quick thinking by his Uncle, Mr Winchester survived the attempt and is likely to make a full recovery..._

"What the f...?"

"Keep it down!" Bobby glanced around the waiting room, relieved to see they were alone.

Dean lowered his voice. "What the hell's goin' on Bobby?"

Bobby stared at the news rag in utter disgust. "I wish I knew. But I _do_ know _that aint no damn leak!"_

_**SSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSS**_

_**Author's notes:**_

Well, well, well! What do we have here?

Just as things seem to get worse for Sam, Dean steps in and makes him see sense, but whilst he's lying on the operating table _once again_, the press have been fed some semi-false information about Sam and Dean, but to what ends?

For any medical experts and critics out there, before you start turning red and frothing at the mouth, _yes._ I am quite aware of how farfetched this is with regards to Sam's medical status.

But isn't that the point of Supernatural fan fiction in the first place?

I stole the name of Nick Harper from Kris Marshal's character in My Family.

Hope you enjoyed this and it isn't too boring for you. I know some of you out there are probably dying for some action. Well here's the good news.

It's coming. I'm just not promising when!

Many thanks for your kind reviews so far, and I promise, as always, to reply to any I've missed. My thanks are of course extended to all anonymous reviewers.

Kind regards,

ST.xxx.


	8. Chapter 8

**Broken Chapter 8**

Bobby set about explaining the aftermath of the shooting.

Since the armed robbers had managed to escape the clutches of the law, he'd taken it upon himself to protect Sam's identity. Bobby had no idea at that point just how much Sam knew or had witnessed, but the CCTV footage of the robbery had revealed nothing of direct interest.

Except for one important detail.

Bobby had seen the footage several times and never failed to wince at Sam's shooting. But as Sam lay seriously injured face down on the floor the gunman appeared to raise his ski mask before taking aim one final time, intent on killing the young Winchester.

Unfortunately, the gunman's back was to the camera, so the only person who could possibly identify him was...

"Sam," Dean breathed out his little brother's name anxiously. He nodded. "So he _was_ lyin' to me." He murmured almost to himself.

Bobby gave him a sharp glance. "I don't know about that Dean. Not so much lyin' perhaps as genuinely confused and can't remember. We couldn't tell from the footage if Sam was even conscious at that point."

"Maybe." Dean got up and started pacing again, much to Bobby's irritation but he let it go; Dean had been given more than one reason to be worried about his brother and was trying to think it through. Suddenly Dean stopped and swung round to face him. "You said the gunman was about to take a final shot. What stopped him?"

Bobby shrugged. "The only person who can answer that is Sam." Then he added "and the gunman of course. All you can see in the footage is the guy aiming his weapon at Sam, only nothing happens. It's pretty grainy, not a clear image, but it looks like he says something to Sam then just backs away before disappearing out of view."

Dean felt like throwing up. The bastard who shot his little brother meant to finish him off, but for some reason stopped. Why? Did he run out of ammo? Did he change his mind? Did he think Sam was dead already and didn't want to waste the bullet? Whatever the reason, Dean found himself shaking with a mix of belated fear and relief for Sam.

He couldn't understand why the guy revealed his face to a hostage in the first place, and said as much to Bobby.

"To taunt him perhaps?" Bobby mused. "He was about to kill Sam outright so I guess it didn't matter. Sam had just really pissed him off by helping the youngest hostage to escape. And, contrary to popular belief, most criminals think kids make far more valuable hostages than adults, mainly 'cos they're easier to intimidate but also the cops are far more likely to co-operate when there's kids involved."

Dean thought that one through for a second. "Bobby, you said it was two hours before the cops were able to storm the building and rescue Sam and the other hostages." When Bobby nodded, Dean continued. "But the bastards managed to escape. How long before they found a way out?"

Bobby sat back in his seat. "According to the other hostages, the two men left them tied up and exited the building via a door to the basement in the main office at least an hour before the raid." He shook his head. "It took the cops way too long to realise there was no one to negotiate with. They kept on calling and calling the office, but no one answered. After a 

while, they decided to storm the place. Turns out they cut a hole in the basement wall and made their escape through the sewers."

Dean stared at him in amazement. "That's a hell of a lot of trouble to go to just for the few lousy bucks a gas station might make in a day!"

Bobby shrugged in agreement. "Yeah, and professional too. But that gas station's positioned on a busy main road, especially during the tourist season, and makes over a hundred an' fifty thousand dollars a week at the peak of trade. And the owner, who incidentally was the father of the girl Sam saved, only had the security van's visit twice a month for the takings. They got their timin' just right." Bobby paused to scratch the back of his neck. "Sure hope he's learned his lesson from all this."

Huffing a little, he carried on with his explanation.

"When they called to tell me about Nick Harper, I recognised that name as one of Sam's aliases, so I kept up the pretence until I had the full story."

Bobby went on to explain that at the time Sam was admitted for emergency surgery, only two other people knew his real name: Tim Rogers and the cop in charge of the investigation into the robbery, Detective Graham Lightman. He was an old friend of Bobby's and once the CCTV footage had been viewed, he'd agreed to keep Sam's identity out of the public eye.

"Has Sam seen the footage?" Dean interrupted briefly, when Bobby shook his head he looked at him questioningly.

"He had enough to deal with, but now that you mention it. Perhaps we should've asked him to take a look." Bobby replied.

During the aftercare it was decided that Nick Harper would just disappear up North in order to recuperate, whilst one Sam Winchester, victim of a horse riding accident, came to stay 

with his Uncle Bobby and receive physical therapy at the local hospital, under the watchful eye of Dr Tim Rogers.

By this point the OR team had changed and at least two members of staff had left to take new jobs on the other side of the country. Anyone else was sworn to secrecy. No one should have been able to identify Sam as Nick Harper.

Dean frowned. "Why not stick with his alias?"

"'Cos if word got out that Nick Harper was here, we worried that the gunmen would come lookin' for him. But also because it would make things easier for Sam. He was pretty confused and in a lot of pain and shock after the surgery. I didn't think it would be fair to load him up with an identity change in his state."

"Ok. That makes sense." Dean nodded his agreement, but was feeling a little angry all the same. "But what doesn't make sense is that we've been hangin' round this place for four days, and you didn't see fit to tell me!"

Bobby glared at him. "I think we had slightly more pressing issues going on at the time, and I thought Sam was safe 'til I saw that damn headline! I was gonna tell ya later."

Both men sat in silence for quite some while.

"I'm not sure Sam's safe here." Dean said quietly.

Bobby shrugged. "Yeah. I know. But I think we should hang tight and let this blow over. Sam won't be fit enough to leave yet in any case. We'll just have to be extra vigilant; make sure he goes nowhere alone, and keep strangers well away from him."

Dean heard what he was saying _in case the gunman gets wind of this and comes back to murder the one person that could identify him_.

"The other important point to mention is that Dean Winchester is supposed to be dead," Dean chewed on his bottom lip.

"Yeah, but only Tim knows who you are. We were both careful not to refer to you as Dean in front of anyone else."

Dean turned to Bobby for a moment. "You sure have placed a lot of faith in Sam's surgeon. What aren't you tellin' me? What else have you told _him?_"

Bobby sighed. "Nothin' much, but Tim's trustworthy. His mother was a hunter, before she was slaughtered by a wendigo when he was six years old. I didn't mention it 'cos it wasn't my place to, and frankly he doesn't like to talk about it." He glanced at Dean, who frowned again. "Somethin' I thought you of all people would understand."

Thinking of his father, Dean nodded. He _did _understand. He remembered the tension between himself and his little brother after his father gave up his life for Dean, how Sam wanted to talk, but Dean refused. Sam had been just as hurt by John Winchester's death, but for different reasons.

He grinned a little, "Nowhere alone." Suddenly thinking of Sam's independent nature. "Boy! Is Sam gonna be pissed!"

They lapsed into silence again, both feeling uneasy about their hastily prepared plan.

_**SSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSS**_

Tim squinted a little. "Ok, I need more light over here. That's it...right there."

One of the surgical team held a swab in a pair of forceps, and began gently mopping up some of the excess blood.

Tim looked over at the anaesthetist, who nodded back at him over the top of his surgical mask. "He's a little more restless than I'd like, but otherwise he's doing just fine."

Tim glanced briefly at Sam's profile. Apart from the slight eye movement under the lids, his patient seemed peaceful enough for him to continue.

Taking a deep calming breath, Tim carried on. "Ok. We're through...I can see it!"

He handed back the scalpel and a set of forceps immediately replaced it.

"Ok Sam. Let's hope your luck's taken a turn for the better huh?" He muttered, and began the procedure, occasionally pausing for suction to clear the blood so he could see what he was doing.

He spoke way too soon. As he started gently working and easing the bullet out, blood started welling up at an alarming rate, and he heard one of the nurses gasp a little.

"It's ok. I expected this..." his eyes widened, "... but definitely NOT THIS! Get a clamp in here NOW!"

As if on cue, the cardiac monitor started blaring out its warning and someone called "BP dropping! Sats already down to seventy eight percent!"

"Shit!" Tim dropped the compacted bullet into a kidney bowl and concentrated on trying to save his patient's life. "Get him on one hundred percent oxygen. I gotta stop the bleeding and close this up before it gets outta hand."

The team hurried round the room, collecting various implements and hypodermics to assist their doctor, and Tim worked feverishly trying to halt the shocking blood loss.

"Haematology got that cross-match ready?" At a nod from his intern, Tim carried on barking orders. "Right. Let's get three units of blood into him. I think I've got this under control..."

_**SSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSS**_

Tim removed his latex gloves and dumped them into the nearest clinical waste bin, before loosening the mask. He was shattered and felt much older than his years.

It was close. Sam had needed a further transfusion; two more units of blood, but he was losing it faster than the team could keep up. Eventually they'd had to call Sam's brother into the donor room. Dean had the same blood type as Sam, which was a blessing. Since the scare over BSE, new variant CJD and a host of other infectious diseases, blood donations had dropped in the last year, and reserves were running low. Dean had given two units and was prepared to give more, but Tim wouldn't hear of it. One unconscious Winchester was quite enough, thank you!

Sam's haemoglobin was still a little low, but the anaemia hopefully wouldn't last. He had enough to see him through until his body was able to build up to normal levels. His renal function tests had revealed a slight kidney impairment, the urea and creatinine levels a little high, but Tim hoped that would eventually resolve itself without too much intervention.

Sam was stable for now and was currently being cleaned up, but Tim was worried. There could still be complications, something could still go wrong even though he'd checked and rechecked everything before, during and after the procedure.

But the kid was alive and that had to be enough for now. Only time would tell.

Tim made his way out to the donor unit where Dean was...well...being _forced_ to lie still and recover. Knocking tentatively on the door frame he smiled at his patient's older brother. Dean was asleep on the reclining donor chair, face still a little pale.

"How's he feelin'?" He asked Bobby who was sat on a sofa reading a car magazine, waiting for Dean to wake up.

Bobby grinned, confirming Tim's earlier thoughts about unconscious Winchesters. "He fainted not long after givin' blood. I just caught him in time before he brained 'imself on the table." He chuckled. "Damn fool kid. I tol' 'im to sit and rest, but he's just like his daddy. Stubborn as a goddamn mule!"

"I guess he's just desperate to hear how his brother's doing." Tim joined him on the sofa.

"And?" Bobby closed the magazine, placed it back on the table, then turned to face Dr Rogers.

"It was a massive bleed as you know, worse than before. The next twenty four hours are gonna be critical, and Sam's gonna be under very close observation." Tim prayed he wasn't jinxing anyone with what he said next. "But...I think he'll be ok."

"That's good. That's better than good." Then Bobby pulled out the newspaper and handed it to Tim. "'Cos we could have big problems."

Tim stared at the paper in shock. "Holy Shit!"

_**SSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSS**_

Once Sam had been removed from recovery and transferred back to his room, Dean joined him. He was still feeling a little groggy and intensely embarrassed at his fainting spell.

"Dude, I didn't faint! _Girls_ faint! I _passed out!"_ Was ringing in Bobby and Tim's amused ears as they headed for the staff room.

Tim had arranged to call all the ward staff together for a meeting, and Bobby was going as the Winchester's representative. Tim was convinced that someone on his staff had somehow leaked the information to the press; after all, no one else could've possibly known that Sam Winchester was Nick Harper, hero of a gas station robbery from six months ago. He was particularly annoyed because reporters from newspapers all over the state had been calling the hospital, badgering the staff for more information. A few even showed up in reception, pretending to have an appointment with Sam's doctor.

Bobby was still just as convinced it wasn't a leak, that it had been done with deliberate intent.

Upon entering the room, Tim invited Bobby to take a seat then called for quiet amongst the muttering doctors, nurses and other staff that worked on the ward.

"As you all probably know, the press had quite a lot to say about one of our patients. The information was grossly incorrect and the patient's family may well be considering legal action for defamation of character. I refer of course to the circumstances surrounding Sam Winchester's admission to this hospital earlier in the week; false allegations regarding illegal drug use have quite understandably upset the young man's family." He stared long and hard at his audience, his gaze sweeping the room for full effect. Bobby was more than a little impressed with the bluff. "I want to reiterate the importance of patient confidentiality, and any breech of our data protection and integrated care record policies will _not _be tolerated. A full enquiry will be launched in conjunction with a legal investigation. If necessary _all_ email accounts will be checked. However," Tim paused, and Bobby kept 

his face emotionless. Voice softened a little, Tim continued, "I'm sure such unpleasantness can be avoided. If there's someone here that has any relevant information, you have twenty four hours to come forward. And I will endeavour to speak on your behalf to the medical board. But rest assured, we _will_ find out."

Bobby, eyes narrowed, watched the staff members carefully.

_Whose lookin' guilty?_

_**SSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSS**_

Dean was staring out the window, still wondering, worrying..._watching._ He couldn't shake the feeling that something bad was coming. In spite of Tim's assurances that it was probably an accidental leak, and Dean had to admit that it _was_ likely, it didn't stop the thoughts racing through his mind. Even if it was perfectly innocent, the potential consequences bothered him greatly.

Once the gunman found out who and where his brother was, there _would_ be trouble on the way.

_How the hell am I gonna protect Sam from that?_

_And how the hell am I gonna get him to open up to me?_

"Dean?"

Sam's voice sounded so pitifully weak and childlike that it took Dean back about fifteen years to a younger Sam. His Sammy. He was by his side within seconds, sitting on the bed and leaning over his brother, brushing the hair out of Sam's sleepy eyes.

"Hey kiddo. How you feelin'?"

Sam blinked slowly up at him and frowned. "Dean? You look pale man. You ok?"

Dean smiled. It wasn't his cocky, I'm the King-of-the-Crap-Heap grin, but a reassuring smile that spoke volumes. It was the facial equivalent of a hug. "I'm fine dude." He dropped the smile in favour of mock-annoyance. "But you owe me some blood little bro." He held out his hand in a 'gimme' gesture. "Now pay up!"

Sam produced a weak smile of his own. "I take it that the surgery had some complications."

The smile returned, but this time there was a tinge of fear and worry attached. "Yeah, just a few. But you're gonna be ok." Dean gently grasped Sam's hand in his. "Just...try to think before you go saving pre-pubescent girls in distress huh?" He smirked at little, "At least make sure she aint jail bait, and her bra size? It helps if it's bigger than her shoes!"

Sam chuckled. He couldn't help himself. It was such a relief to listen to Dean's warped sense of humour again. Pain flared in his back, and he grimaced and let out a small hiss.

"Sam! What's wrong dude? You ok?" Dean reached for the call button but Sam stopped him.

"I'm...fine. Just...try not to make me laugh too much ok?" Sam smiled at Dean for a moment, then sadness took over, and he spoke haltingly, finding the words hard to get out. "We're...good, right? You don't hate me? For what I did sixth months ago...for what I...tried to do yesterday?"

"Sammy..." Dean sighed as he dragged a chair closer, got off the bed and sat, then gently laid his free hand on Sam's shoulder. "I never hated you for what you decided back then; I just felt angry that you wanted to go back to a normal life. I was childish, yeah sure, but I never hated you for it. As for what you did yesterday?" Dean hung his head for a second, then raised it and locked his eyes with Sam's. "The only way I can promise to never hate you for that, is for _you_ to promise you won't ever do that again." He strengthened his grip on Sam's shoulder, desperate eyes boring into his. "And _mean_ it, Sam! I need you to mean it."

Sam stared back at him, eyes glistening with unshed tears. "I promise." He whispered.

And he meant it.

Nodding and smiling, Dean patted his brother's shoulder. "Now get some rest Sammy. We got a lot to talk about, but you need to rest up first."

As Sam closed his eyes, Dean sat back in his seat.

There _was_ a lot to talk about, but Sam wasn't up to it yet. In the meantime, Dean wondered what was being said at Tim's staff meeting. He'd wanted to be there, but he _needed _to be with Sam.

So he let Bobby deal with it. He would fill him in later, but for now Dean was still Sam's personal guard. No one was getting to Sam without coming through him first.

_**SSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSS**_

"So, in closing. I ask you all to remain vigilant. If you don't feel safe challenging any strangers that come on to the ward, then call me, or better yet call security." Tim finished up with another stern glance around the room. "Remember. Twenty four hours."

Bobby stared at everyone that filtered passed him as they made their way out.

Tim turned to him. "Well? What do you think?"

"I..." Bobby was interrupted by a small voice from the back of the room.

"Dr Rogers? I think I know what happened."

Tim recognised the nurse that cautiously approached him. It was the same young woman that had gone into Sam's room to administer his medication the day he tried to commit suicide.

"Miss Henley. Susan isn't it?" Tim's voice and expression remained neutral, though he could feel his blood boiling already. "What happened exactly?"

The nurse looked down at her feet. "I didn't leak anything to the press. But..." She glanced up sorrowfully, big brown eyes filling with tears. "I think someone else did. Someone I know."

_**SSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSS**_

_**Author's notes:**_

Ok. So we're getting closer to who went to the press, and Sam is still in a serious condition.

Bobby has revealed the existence of CCTV footage, along with his reasons for keeping Sam's identity a secret, and Dean's more worried than ever.

So? What dya think? Personally, I have a feeling I've made it a bit too complicated and now have a few inconsistencies here.

Really need to stop doing that! But then that's what happens when someone like me is allowed to write anything that springs into my insane head.

Hope you liked it, tough shit if you didn't 'cos I aint goin' back and changing it now!

Kind regards,

ST.xxx.


	9. Chapter 9

**Broken Chapter 9**

**SSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSS**

"_**As you all probably know, the press had quite a lot to say about one of our patients. The information was grossly incorrect and the patient's family may well be considering legal action for defamation of character. I refer of course to the circumstances surrounding Sam Winchester's admission to this hospital earlier in the week; false allegations regarding illegal drug use have quite understandably upset the young man's family." He stared long and hard at his audience, his gaze sweeping the room for full effect. Bobby was more than a little impressed with the bluff. "I want to reiterate the importance of patient confidentiality and any breech of our data protection policies will not be tolerated. A full enquiry will be launched in conjunction with a legal investigation. However," Tim paused, and Bobby kept his face emotionless. Voice softened a little, Tim continued, "I'm sure such unpleasantness can be avoided. If there's someone here that has any relevant information, you have twenty four hours to come forward. And I will endeavour to speak on your behalf to the medical board. But rest assured, we will find out."**_

_**Bobby, eyes narrowed, watched the staff members carefully.**_

_**Whose lookin' guilty? **_

_**SSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSS**_

"_**We're...good, right? You don't hate me?...for what I...tried to do yesterday?"**_

_**Dean hung his head for a second, then raised it and locked his eyes with Sam's. "The only way I can promise to never hate you for that, is for you to promise you won't ever do that again." He strengthened his grip on Sam's shoulder, desperate eyes boring into his. "And mean it, Sam! I need you to mean it."**_

_**Sam stared back at him, eyes glistening with unshed tears. "I promise." He whispered.**_

_**SSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSS**_

"_**Dr Rogers? I think I know what happened."**_

"_**Miss Henley. Susan isn't it?" Tim's voice and expression remained neutral, though he could feel his blood boiling already. "What happened exactly?"**_

_**The nurse looked down at her feet. "I didn't leak anything to the press. But..." She glanced up sorrowfully, big brown eyes filling with tears. "I think someone else did. Someone I know."**_

_**SSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSS**_

Dean woke up with a jolt and found himself staring into the face of one mean looking badger.

"Get off ya ass and drink ya damn coffee 'fore it gets cold!"

Scratch that. Definitely not a badger. Badgers generally had _more_ facial hair and rarely spoke English.

Dean yawned and stretched. "Thanks Bobby." He knocked back a few mouthfuls and grimaced. "What the hell do they use in the dispensing machines 'round here? Paraquat?"

"Close. But Arsenic's more likely." Bobby nodded his head in Sam's direction. "He woken up yet?"

Dean glanced at his brother, sleeping peacefully, and lowered his voice. "Yeah, briefly. We talked for a while, but I haven't told him 'bout the news article yet." He scratched his chin and realised he hadn't shaved in a few days now. "He's got enough to deal with. Any luck with the staff meeting?"

Bobby dumped himself down in the chair across from Dean. "Yeah looks like. Tim'll be along in a minute to explain."

When the newly qualified nurse had stayed behind after the meeting to talk to Tim about the leaked news report, Tim had invited her into his office. But after witnessing how nervous she was in Bobby's presence, and that wasn't altogether surprising given the angry frown marring his features, Tim had asked him to leave.

Bobby hadn't been amused but at least understood and agreed to head back to Sam's room.

Dean grinned upon hearing that. "So you made the poor girl nervous huh?" He chuckled. "Maybe I should go find her and explain that you always look like that!"

"Smart ass!" Bobby growled, just as there was a soft knock at the door and Tim poked his head round.

Seeing that his patient was sound asleep, Tim opted to whisper loudly. "You guys wanna wait out here for a sec? I'll give Sam an intravenous pain killer then I'll be right out!"

Nodding in agreement, Dean and Bobby quietly left the room and stood in the corridor waiting patiently for the doctor's return.

Tim appeared and quietly closed the door behind him. "He's still out. We have time." He led the way to his office and invited Dean and Bobby to take a seat. Then he began. "One thing we know for certain; it _was_ a leak. And an accidental one at that."

Dean frowned. "So what happened?"

"Nurse Henley is new to this hospital and only recently qualified. Joined us up here a few weeks ago in fact. She's a little impressionable, not to mention pretty lonely being the new girl, so when the nurses from some of the other wards invited her out to a club she jumped at the chance. Unfortunately, one of the other nurses got a little drunk and started talking about Sam..." Tim had the grace to blush a little and offered a small grin. "Apparently they were suggesting that your brother...er...that is, they were admiring Sam's physique." Tim was trying to not to laugh at the expression on Dean's face. "Then Susan, Nurse Henley, in a desperate attempt to fit in mentioned that Sam had been shot in the back, and that was why he couldn't walk. When an equally drunk colleague challenged that statement, claiming that Sam had been thrown from a horse, Susan got a little loud and hotly protested that Sam had indeed been shot in the back during a robbery."

Dean shoulders stiffened up and he raised his chin a little, whereas Bobby merely frowned.

Susan had been more than a little drunk herself that night, so when a stranger sitting at the next table over-heard the conversation, she was more than willing to talk about it.

The stranger was a tall woman in her late thirties, with dark brown hair, and introduced herself as Beth. Tim had immediately recognised the description; Beth Cooper, journalist. Ruthless, heartless and ambitious, and would do literally _anything_ for a story. In fact, she'd been one of the reporters spotted at the hospital reception earlier that day trying to get an interview with Tim.

Beth had plied the young nurse with more drinks and asked many more questions. Susan hadn't thought much of it at the time, but now she remembered getting tired of the bar room interrogation. She hadn't known about the 'shooting of Nick Harper', but Beth obviously had because she put two and two together and come up with the correct answer regarding Sam. And when Susan had mentioned the suicide attempt, the bitch must have been practically crowing with delight.

Beth had been smart all right. She had sufficiently twisted the story in order to provoke a response from Sam, Tim or Bobby, even if that response was a law suit; she hadn't cared so long as she got her story. As for the rest she'd found out regarding Dean? That wouldn't have been hard to dig up, not for a professional at any rate.

"So what do we do now?" Dean's eyes were flashing angrily, and his hands were flexing instinctively as though he couldn't quite decide how to kill the bitch once he got hold of her. Beat the living shit outta her? Or strangulation could be more fun perhaps!

"We could seek legal advice, but that would only draw even more attention to Sam. He's in enough danger as it is." Bobby reasoned out loud. "Maybe just lie low until this all blows over."

Tim nodded in agreement. "I think that's your best course of action. We have decent security on this ward, but with you guys keeping an eye on things we can make sure no one gets into Sam's room without our knowing."

"What about taking him home?" Dean's gaze went from Bobby to Tim. "I think he'd feel better back at Bobby's place, and it'll be easier to protect him there. Here?" He raised a hand and waved it at the corridors. "Too many variables, too many strangers walkin 'round and we can't keep track of 'em all."

Tim drummed his fingers on the desk for a second. "I think I have to agree with you there, but Sam needs to stay here for a few days longer. He's just outta surgery and for the sake of my piece of mind, should there be complications..." He raised his hands apologetically and shrugged.

"Yeah. I get it." Dean nodded, less than happy but not having much choice. There wasn't much point in trying to protect his brother from the press, or maybe even the gunman should he put in an appearance, if Sam could just as easily die from a blood clot.

Bobby leaned forward in his seat, resting his elbows on his knees. "When do we tell Sam?"

Sighing Dean ran a hand through his hair. "Soon as he's awake." Seeing Tim frown at that, Dean explained as patiently as he could. "Sam needs to know what the deal is. We can't protect him properly unless he's fully in the picture. He can handle it. And in any case," Dean smiled fondly, "knowing Sam, he'll figure somethin's up straight away and then he won't stop damn well questioning everything we do!"

Bobby smirked. "That's sure true enough!"

So decision made, Bobby had one more question. "What happens to that nurse?"

Tim sat back in his seat and placed his hands behind his head. "That's pretty much up to you. You could leave her to me; I think she's learnt her lesson, and it _was_ an honest drunken mistake. Or you could take this further to the hospital board. You'd be quite within your rights."

Dean considered that for a moment, then surprised Bobby by showing considerable compassion. "Nah. She's young and we all screw up from time to time. So long as she understands that she may well have put my brother in danger, I'll leave her punishment in your hands Tim." Then he grinned. "Just leave Beth Cooper to me."

Tim raised an eyebrow. "What do you have in mind?"

"Let's just say that by the time I'm through, she'll be seeing her photocopier in a _real _different light." Dean's grin widened. "And once I've finished bending her over _that,_ I'll start on her desk!"

Tim would have laugh out loud, except he caught the feral gleam in Dean's eye that suggested he wasn't entirely joking.

_**SSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSs**_

Sam came awake slowly, groaning as he did so. Someone had obviously given him some more pain killers because he felt as though he'd been out on an all night bender. At least he didn't have the statutory _mouth like a vulture's crotch flying backwards in a sand storm_, which usually accompanied a hangover. And neither did he present with the usual _eyes like two piss holes in the snow_ symptoms.

That was good. Better than good in fact.

"So you're finally awake," came a familiar voice next to him, and Sam glanced over at his brother with a sleepy smile.

"Yeah. Back doesn't hurt though," he replied.

Dean wasn't smiling. He looked dead serious and Sam started to wonder if he'd done something wrong.

"Everythin' ok Dean?"

Dean thought for a moment before answering. "Not sure. We may have a problem." He held something out.

Sam's gaze dropped to the newspaper. "What's this?"

"I think you should take a look."

As Sam set about reading the article, Dean got up and strolled to the window. Out of the corner of his eye Sam noticed his brother rubbing his neck. It was something Dean always did when he was worried.

And by the time he finished reading the paper, Sam could understand why.

"Oh my God!" Sam must've sounded more panicked than he thought, because Dean turned sharply and stared at him.

"Dean...wha..." Sam couldn't breathe properly. It felt as though his windpipe was closing, sealing itself shut. _How could this have happened?_

And Dean was there, right beside him, one hand on Sam's chest and the other at the back of his head, supporting him. "Calm down little bro. Just breathe ok? We'll figure this out, I swear."

It took a while, but once Sam got his breathing back under control he stared at the article in silence. Then he turned to Dean. "How? I mean, we were so careful."

"I know. Bobby and Tim told me everything." Dean leaned forward, staring at Sam. "Sammy, we need to talk man. About the robbery." Though his voice was soft his intent carried a sharp, hard edge to it.

Sam swallowed hard. "What do you want to know? I told you everything." And he _hated_ how shaky his voice sounded.

Dean's gaze turned sad. "I don't think so, not everything. Do you still not trust me, Sam? That you would endanger your life just to keep something from me?"

Sam could hear the underlying anger and fear, and shook his head. "It's not that, I swear to God it's not."

"Then tell me. Please Sam. I can't help you if you don't tell me."

Sam looked away and gazed out the window. He heard Dean sigh in frustration, and he flinched a little.

_I can't tell him that. It would hurt him too much._

"Sam, I think you should watch the CCTV footage of the robbery." Sam's head shot round to stare at him in shock. "Yeah, Bobby told me you didn't know about that. But it exists, and I'll watch it with you. Ok? But we also need to start tightening up security round you. If there's any chance the gunman's read that article..."

He didn't need to finish his sentence, because Sam instantly understood.

"Ok." He nodded. "I don't remember much after getting Lucy out. Except the pain; once it started I didn't think it would stop. It was like someone had poured white hot fire into my back, and I passed out...I think."

"You think?" Dean's tone was gentle but persistent.

"I...I think I saw someone but...it's...too hazy. A pair of boots, like the ones you wear...or something." Sam frowned and tried hard to remember. "I think someone spoke...but I can't..."

Sam started getting agitated as his frustration grew, and Dean laid a comforting hand on his shoulder.

"It's ok. You're safe here. Just take it easy and it'll come to you ok?" Dean sounded calm but his eyes told a different story; the green was awash with worry and compassion.

"No! It's not all right!" Sam hated himself for this, but Dean had pushed him. "Since you came back...that day at Bobby's...I've been having nightmares..."

"Yeah I know. I had the front row seat on that one." Dean smiled slightly.

Sam barely heard him as he carried on stuttering, trying to get it out. "..._you_ were there! It...it was you in the dream that shot me. You looked me right in the eyes and _shot me in the head!_"

The shocked silence that followed forced Sam to finally look at his brother. The hurt and pain he saw there made him want to curl up and die.

"Dean...I'm sorry, I'm so sorry." Sam pleaded with his brother. "I didn't want to tell you. You didn't need to know that...please...don't leave..."

Dean shook himself. It was obvious what this was; Sam was suffering delayed post traumatic stress and the last thing he needed was Dean's guilt to deal with.

"Sammy...as hard as it was to hear, I _did_ need to know. Ok? So stop blaming yourself." Dean smiled reassuringly. "And I think you needed to let it out, 'cos it was killing you buddy."

When Sam just stared at him miserably, Dean laughed a little. "And I told you before; I'm not going anywhere."

Sam nodded and Dean gave him some time to regain his composure.

"Tim held a staff meeting. We know how it got leaked to the press..."

Dean gently explained everything, including just how he intended dealing with Beth Cooper. That made Sam laugh his head off, which in turn made Dean smile. He hadn't heard that laugh for way too long and it was like a soothing balm to his troubled mind.

"So it's back to Bobby's then?" Sam was smiling, looking more relaxed already.

"In a few days maybe." Dean scratched the back of his head. "Tim wants to keep an eye on you, make sure you're ok after the latest bout of surgery. In the mean time, Bobby's off tracking down that video footage." At Sam's worried look Dean grinned. "What's the matter dude? Don't wanna see yaself on Candid Camera?"

"Uh...I don't know. I'm just not sure I wanna see...what happened." Sam fell silent, his troubled gaze eventually meeting Dean's.

Cursing himself for his lack of sensitivity, Dean gently grasped one of Sam's hands. "I know it's gonna be hard, but I'll be there. So will Bobby. You're safe Sam, I promise. I won't let anything bad happen to you."

__

_**SSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSS**_

Dean waited for his brother to fall asleep again before taking to wandering the ward. To an outside observer he merely appeared as a concerned visitor, perhaps nervously awaiting news of a sick relative. But as he moved around he was busy judging, cataloguing, checking all the exits, memorising staff rotas, getting to know a little about every member of staff. And all this happened as he stayed in the background. By the time he was finished, he knew the names of all the nurses, orderlies and ward clerks, without having spoken to a single one of them. And, courtesy of a photo presentation board, he could now put names to faces.

Job done he grabbed some coffee and headed back to Sam's room, slunk into his usual seat and now studied his brother.

He knew he had acted out of character when he spoke to Sam about the robbery, but whenever his little brother was sick or hurt it made Dean feel helpless, and it also brought out his protective side. But this time was different somehow. Not only was Sam badly hurt, partly by Dean's own hand, but he was also vulnerable, scared, and, Dean felt certain, still in danger. As a consequence he'd ended up treating Sam like a frightened child, and for once his brother hadn't protested. That worried Dean even more because it proved just how emotionally fragile Sam was right now. And Dean didn't do emotion all that well. But seeing as his brother had tried to commit suicide, he was prepared to suck it up and get on with it for Sam's sake.

Sam shifted restlessly in his sleep, clearly in distress. Dean immediately got up and perched on the edge of the bed, leaned down and ran a hand through Sam's hair soothingly, whispering to him, once again assuring him he was safe.

That Sam's subconscious had associated the gunman with his big brother had hurt Dean more than he was prepared to admit, but given what he'd done to Sam the day he'd finally showed up after a six month absence, he really couldn't blame him for it.

"Sammy, what am I gonna do with ya huh?" Dean's hand slid down to the pulse in Sam's neck, thankful for the steady beat. "Can't leave you alone for five minutes without you gettin' yaself in trouble, can I?"

Sam soon settled down, responding to brother's voice even in his sleep. It was a knack Dean had developed when Sam was a baby, always able to sooth away the night terrors and calm him down. Not that Sam was a nervous wreck, but he _was_ the more sensitive one of the two. It was this difference, amongst many others, that had made them such a good team. They complimented each other's strengths and weaknesses.

Uneasy though it made him feel, at least Dean had a better idea of what was going through Sam's mind. Which meant that he was better equipped to protect him.

_**SSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSS**_

Bobby blew out a deep breath and Tim's eyebrows seemed to be attached to some kind of pulley system.

"Yeah," Dean gave a half smile. "That's exactly what I thought."

He'd just filled them in on his conversation with Sam, and they were understandably surprised.

"Poor kid." Bobby mused, shaking his head slightly. "That explains a lot."

"But he's not pushing you away, just the opposite." Tim spoke up thoughtfully. "That's a good sign. It means that he knows it wasn't you, that it was just a dream."

"Uhuh, but I still want him to take a look at the CCTV footage." Dean looked over at Tim enquiringly when the doctor sat up in his seat.

"Dean, I'm not sure that it's good idea to push that on him just yet...

"I know what you're gonna say," Dean resisted the urge to start pacing. "And under normal circumstances I'd agree, but...I just have this feeling..."

Bobby eyed him warily. "Dean?"

Dean shook his head, feeling foolish. "It feels like we're on a time table or somethin', and as much as I don't wanna cause Sam anymore distress, we need to act quickly."

"You're that sure the killer's gonna come back?" Asked Tim, drumming his fingers on the desk nervously.

Dean didn't answer at first, just stared at Bobby for a second.

"I can't be sure of anything, but I'm not prepared to take any more chances with Sam's life."

"Well then," Bobby reached into his jacket pocket and produced a disc. "I suggest we get started."

"We can use my laptop; it plays DVDs and we can use the zoom function if necessary." Tim picked up a brief case from behind his desk. He turned to stare at Dean and Bobby. "I sure hope you know what you're doing."

Dean smirked humourlessly. "Why change the habit of a life time?"

__

_**SSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSS**_

Dean hated himself all over again for doing this to Sam. Outwardly his little brother looked calm and unconcerned, but Dean knew him too well. The tense jaw line, clenched fists and white knuckles were a dead giveaway. Sam was dreading this.

If it was just the two of them, Dean would've been sat right next to Sam on his bed, arm draped casually round his shoulders. But he sensed that Sam wanted to give a show of strength, for himself as well as the others, so Dean respected his wishes and kept his distance. But he watched him out the corner of his eye, ready to step in if things got out of hand.

Tim already had the laptop set up and running. He glanced over at Sam and tilted his head, seeking permission to continue. When Sam nodded stiffly, he inserted the disc.

Bobby leaned over and clicked on scene selection, and straight away they could all see a tall figure darting through the aisles with a young girl clutched to his chest. From the stature Dean could tell it was Sam. Everyone watched as he raced over to a fire exit in the corner, wrenched it open and shoved the child through. Though the recording was soundless Dean could sense the urgency as Sam spun round and moved back into the aisles. He could plainly see it was the wrong way as another dark, masked figure appeared on screen. Sam was soon on the move again, but a brief flash of muzzle fire off to the left was followed by Sam jerking violently, another shot and he was pitching forward onto the tiled floor.

Dean sensed his brother's flinch and glanced his way, noticing worriedly how quickly he'd grown pale. Turning to the screen he saw the stranger step closer into what might have been Sam's line of sight from where he was laying on the floor. He couldn't tell if Sam was conscious in the footage at this point, though there had been slight movement just after he 

fell. Dean felt his anxiety levels increase as the stranger, his back to the camera, seemed to lift the mask. There was a pause and Dean got the feeling the guy was talking to Sam, right before he raised his weapon. Another pause and the gunman looked away as though his attention had been diverted, then he lowered the gun and started running back up the aisle away from Sam.

Bobby paused it at that point and turned to the boys. Dean noticed his eyes widen as they came to rest on Sam.

"Sam? You ok?" His brother was trembling, breath coming in short gasps and what little colour was left in his face drained immediately. Dean shot up from his seat and in an instant was in front of him, gently gasping his brother's face, forcing Sam to look at him. Glassy, fear-filled eyes stared straight through him, and Dean gave him a gentle shake. "Sammy? You with me?"

Tim was up within seconds and fixing a syringe to Sam's IV. "He's having a panic attack so I'm sedating him for now." At Dean's worried gaze he explained quickly. "He's just had major surgery. Twice, and both times he lost a lot of blood. Believe me, the last thing he needs right now is this level of stress."

Sam's breathing evened out within seconds and Dean felt him relax within his grasp. He settled him back against the pillows and watched as Sam's eyes drifted shut.

"I'm sorry Sammy. I should've waited 'til you were ready." Dean's face flooded with guilt and a single tear slipped from his eyelashes.

"I understand where you're coming from Dean," Tim interjected, "I know you want to protect him and that means finding out what we could be dealing with, but please listen to me next time. Ok?"

Dean nodded solemnly. "Yeah, you're right. We'll wait 'til he's home and let him decide when he's ready."

_**SSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSS**_

Dean, Tim and Bobby were all in for a bit of a surprise when Sam woke up the next day. Dean noticed it when he came back from his morning coffee run. As soon as he closed the door behind him and turned round he nearly dropped the Styrofoam cup.

Sam was staring at him determinedly, but it was his voice that clinched it.

"I need to see that footage again. Now."

Sighing, Dean slouched over and carefully placed the cup on the nightstand. "Sam..."

"NOW Dean. Please." And it was that pleading look mixed with overtones of authority that made Dean smile.

A little of the old Sam, the strong, stubborn pain in the ass little brother, the one Dean knew better than he knew himself, was finally back.

Dean's smile widened as he nodded. "We got work to do."

_**SSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSS**_

_**Author's notes:**_

So did Sam see something in that footage? Or did it trigger off something in his memory, previously denied him?

Click that little grey button for me and maybe we can find out together!

Thanks for all your kind and generous reviews. I _have _been reading all your wonderful reviews for the other stories I'm working on and I _will_ get round to replying I promise.

I just thought that you'd rather have an update sooner.

Kind regards,

ST.xxx.


	10. Chapter 10

**Broken Chapter 10**

"_**Sam? You ok?" His brother was trembling, breath coming in short gasps and what little colour was left in his face drained immediately. Dean shot up from his seat and in an instant was in front of him, gently grasping his brother's face, forcing Sam to look at him. Glassy, fear-filled eyes stared straight through him, and Dean gave him a gentle shake. "Sammy? You with me?"**_

_**Tim was up within seconds and fixing a syringe to Sam's IV. "He's having a panic attack so I'm sedating him for now." At Dean's worried gaze he explained quickly. "He's just had major surgery. Twice, and both times he lost a lot of blood. Believe me, the last thing he needs right now is this level of stress."**_

_**Sam's breathing evened out within seconds and Dean felt him relax within his grasp. He settled him back against the pillows and watched as Sam's eyes drifted shut.**_

"_**I'm sorry Sammy. I should've waited 'til you were ready." Dean's face flooded with guilt and a single tear slipped from his eyelashes.**_

_**SSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSS**_

"_**I need to see that footage again. Now."**_

_**Sighing, Dean slouched over and carefully placed the cup on the nightstand. "Sam..."**_

"_**NOW Dean. Please." And it was that pleading look mixed with overtones of authority that made Dean smile.**_

__

_**A little of the old Sam, the strong, stubborn pain in the ass little brother, the one Dean knew better than he knew himself, was finally back.**_

_**Dean's smile widened as he nodded. "We got work to do."**_

_**SSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSS**_

"Sam, get some sleep." Dean's voice brooked no argument this time. "We've been at this for hours and you're exhausted."

"Damn zoom function isn't sharp enough, and I can't get any closer than this..." Sam carried on as though Dean hadn't spoken. Impatiently brushing hair out of his eyes, an act of pure frustration, he huffed and glared at the laptop screen.

Dean turned his weary gaze on the frozen picture. It was the scene just after Sam was shot; the gunman had pulled up his ski mask and aimed his weapon between the kid's eyes. Dean had sat through the shooting a few times by now, and he never failed to wince, always felt the residual fear that came with nearly losing Sam. Having to watch his little brother gunned down, even on a computer screen, frightened the living shit out of him. The first time he'd seen it Dean had almost gone into shock, and it was only Sam's panicked breathing that kept him from losing it when he realised that no matter how bad it was for himself, it had to be a thousand times worse for Sam.

And reliving your own near death experience over and over probably wasn't the healthiest of pastimes. Dean got up and made to snap the laptop shut, but Sam was too fast for him and yanked it out of the way.

"Sam!" Dean growled like an angry wolf protecting his cub, and in a sense, at least in _Dean's _eyes, that's exactly what Sam was. As much as he was delighted to have the old Sam back, he couldn't help but miss certain aspects of the broken and depressed Sam. _That_ Sam at least did as he was told, but now he'd found a purpose, something to take his mind off the long term future, to wit staying alive long enough to _worry_ about the long term. _Now_ there was no stopping him. Not even a pissed off and extremely worried older brother it seemed.

"Just a few more minutes, then I'll stop." Sam gazed up at him from the wheelchair.

Dean looked into blue-green eyes all soulful in that way he just _knew_ Dean wouldn't be able to deny him. The little shit.

_Not this time little brother!_

"You've been saying that for the last hour," Dean held out his hand and curved his fingers into a 'gimme' gesture. "Now hand it over! We'll look again tomorrow."

Sam let out a sorrowful sigh and placed the laptop back on the table. Tim had brought it in for the boys to work from once Sam had convinced him that his back wasn't causing him too much pain and preferred to sit in his wheelchair by the window. But he had to admit that in the last hour or so his back had certainly been starting to put up a fight, and some sleep would _really _go down a treat right now.

As he was about to log off he stared at the screen.

"Dean, take a look at this."

Dean rolled his eyes. "Not now Sammy..."

"_Seriously_ Dean!"

"All RIGHT!" He moved behind Sam, rested his arms gently on Sam's shoulders and stared _once again_ at the damned screen. It had been hiding its secrets for so damn long that Dean was about ready to hurl the damn thing out the damn window. "Ok. What am I looking at exactly?"

Sam rolled his eyes in frustration at the sarcasm. "I must've hit the scene skip function when I moved the laptop, because this is the shot where the gunman's attention is diverted away from me and he looks back down the aisle..." Sam hit play and the gunman appeared to be moving in slow motion. "..._now._" He hit pause then zoomed in as far as he could get, which still wasn't enough.

Both brothers watched the screen intently, with Dean leaning right over Sam's shoulder to get a closer look. They could just make out the blurred image of the gunman's profile. In spite of the distorted image, it looked worryingly familiar, but there was something else...

"What dya think?" Sam whispered hopefully.

Dean frowned. He knew what his little brother was getting at and he didn't like it one bit. "It's possible, yeah. But it's a little too grainy to say for certain."

"But look. It's totally out of place!"

"Yeah, but that could just be down to one of those...whatcha call 'em? Pixels?" replied Dean, not wanting to jump to conclusions. "I mean, it's not even the right colour for camera flare."

Sam slumped tiredly. "Yeah, you're right. Maybe I'm just clutchin' at straws, seein' things that aren't there."

Dean rounded the chair and crouched, bringing himself to Sam's eye level. "You're also over-tired, recovering from surgery and you barely touched your lunch today." He smiled affectionately before tucking a strand of Sam's fringe behind his ear. "Come on Sammy, let's get you back to bed."

Nodding a little morosely, Sam allowed his brother to wheel him across the room. Ordinarily, Sam was more than capable of getting in and out of the chair by himself, but he had to acknowledge that the pain in his back was likely to hinder his efforts.

And he didn't have to say a word to Dean, who immediately hooked an arm under Sam's knees and one round his back, careful to avoid the surgical wound, and lifted him almost effortlessly from the chair and over onto the bed. Dean had noticed all the signs, the small winces, the rubbing at his back when he thought Dean wasn't looking, the odd fidget as Sam shifted position, trying to get comfortable; Sam was in pain but not admitting to it. Lowering him gently, Dean was a little shocked at how much weight Sam had lost and vowed to make sure he regained it once he got him home to Bobby's.

"My hero." Sam grinned up at Dean, who smirked and released his 'damsel in distress' hold as he'd once dubbed it, before stepping back and grabbing his usual chair.

"Just don't tell anyone. And for the record, you aint my type."

"Oh that's right." Sam frowned mockingly. "'Cos Julian Clary _is_."

That made Dean freeze and glare at his brother "Now that is just sick dude!" He ground out.

"Aw come on Dean. I've seen the way you look at him whenever we watch his stand up shows on TV; you can't take your eyes off him!" Sam's grin widened. "It's the makeup right? You can't resist all that mascara and eye shadow."

Dean glowered at him. "You actually _want_ to get out of here someday? 'Cos you are _so_ heading for the ICU again if you don't cut that out!" He shuddered. "Besides, Julian and I are strictly platonic these days!" Causing Sam to burst out laughing.

_**SSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSS**_

"Shape shifter?" Bobby frowned fiercely. "You sure?"

"No. We just can't zoom in close enough, and there's too much distortion." Dean folded his arms and leaned against the wall outside Sam's room.

His brother had fallen asleep almost immediately after his head hit the pillow, so Dean crept out and went in search of Bobby. Fortunately he didn't have to go further than the coffee machine; Dean was even more reluctant to leave Sam alone than ever before. If they were indeed dealing with a shape shifter, and Dean hoped to God they were wrong, then it made getting Sam out of hospital imperative. A shape shifter could impersonate anyone convincingly enough to get through security and on to the ward. Maybe even into Sam's room.

Not only that, but it placed everyone, the doctors, nurses, clerks, patients, and visitors, in immediate danger.

"You think the shifter was impersonating you when he shot Sam?" Bobby voiced the very question Dean wanted desperately to avoid, but it had to be said.

"I honestly don't know." Dean tilted his head back, letting it bang lightly against the wall with a heavy sigh. "Sure hope not, 'cos that's just gonna lead to some pretty difficult questions and I aint sure the answers'll be any easier to deal with."

Like, does that mean Sam was deliberately targeted? If so for what purpose? Is this all to do with Yellow Eyes? His army seeking revenge for his death maybe? Had he been following Sam since Wyoming or was it just a coincidence Sam turned up at that gas station when he did?

Dean felt his head swimming and black dots danced in front of his eyes. He was vaguely aware that he'd started feeling sick at some point, and Christ! He felt so goddamn tired.

"Take it easy son." Bobby laid a hand on Dean's shoulder and guided him downwards into a sitting position, his head hanging between his knees. "We'll figure it out ok? But in the mean time you need to get some rest. You're no good to your brother if you pass out on him!"

Dean raised his head again and stared ahead unseeing. "Sorry..."

"Hey!" Tim had been strolling down the hallway, chatting to the radiographer, when he spotted his patient's brother looking decidedly pale and sitting on the floor, and raced over. "Dean you ok?"

"I'm fine I just got a little out of my depth there for a second." But Tim already had his stethoscope out and, without asking permission, shoved it down Dean's shirtfront.

Bobby watched worriedly. Dean hadn't even protested or tried to push the doctor away; he just stared resignedly at the floor, his green gaze haunted by fear.

Tim listened intently and took his pulse. "Can you take a deep breath for me? Ok. Now let it out slowly. And again. That's great." He tucked the stethoscope back in his pocket. "Well, I'd say that your main problem is exhaustion," Green eyes met Tim's blue ones as Dean raised his head again, "coupled with the blood donation, and you haven't really had a chance to rest up properly. So I strongly suggest..."

"I'm not leaving Sam." Dean interrupted sullenly.

"...So I _strongly suggest_," Tim over-rode him with a fierce glare, "that you get something to eat. I'm gonna call services and have another bed brought into Sam's room so you can get some shuteye."

When Dean nodded silently Bobby bit back a chortle. Tim had known Dean only a few days yet he'd already figured out how to handle him.

After making the call, Tim found a set of patient scrubs, similar to the ones Sam wore, and thrust them into Dean's arms. "Trust me" he added when Dean glared down at the pale green pyjamas with no small amount of distaste, "you'll be more comfortable."

Tim grinned slyly. "And if you behave yourself I'll see if I can't find you a name tag so all the pretty nurses think you're a doctor."

Dean considered that for a moment, then grinned broadly.

"_Now_ ya talkin'!" And Bobby really couldn't hold his laughter in any longer.

Before Dean got it into his head to grab the nearest nurse and seduce her in the ward broom closet, Bobby opened the door to Sam's room and shoved Dean through.

"Hey!" Tim heard Dean whisper loudly just before the door closed again "a guy has needs!"

Chuckling to himself, Tim headed for the nurses' station and put in a food order. The canteen was still open even though most of the hospital had been fed and watered hours ago, but Tim was well thought of amongst the kitchen staff.

Pretty soon two hot meals were making their way up to Sam's room, and Bobby and Dean tucked in eagerly. Dean closed his eyes as he chewed on the tender steak, savouring the sweet taste offset by the blue cheese sauce.

"Oh _man_! That's just perfect!" Dean groaned, "Really hits the spot."

Bobby had to agree. As hospital food went it truly was of masterpiece proportions.

It was a good thing Sam was out for the count. He would have been utterly disgusted at the sight of his brother chewing, licking his fingers, blue cheese sauce dripping from his lips, not to mention the sound effects, which were on a whole new level of gross.

But Dean hadn't known just how hungry he was until dinner showed up and the scent of grilled sirloin wafted up his nose. It certainly beat all the microwave crap he'd been swallowing since he got here. Tim had deliberately ordered steak to help restore Dean's haemoglobin and protein levels, along with plenty of green beans and potatoes to keep his carbohydrates in balance. Not that Dean cared too much about that right now; he was too busy inhaling his food with gusto.

"This is great. It's so rare it's still mooing!" Dean announced quietly for Sam's sake.

"Gotta admit," Bobby put down his knife and fork and leaned back in his seat, fully satisfied, "That's the best I've had in a while. Cooked to perfection."

"_No...you're not him...Dean..."_

Dean was instantly out of his own bed and perched on Sam's trying to wake him up. "Come on Sam, it's not real. Just open your eyes."

Sam started rolling his head from side to side, panting..._hyperventilating_.

"_...how did you...find me...?"_

Dean froze and glanced at Bobby.

"Let him keep going," Bobby mouthed, and twirled his hand in a 'roll on' manner.

"_No!...he's not dead...what do you...want with me?"_

Dean frowned anxiously as his brother grew more agitated and terrified.

"_I didn't...kill...your brother..."_

"Ok that's enough. Sam, snap out of it! Come on! Wake up!" Dean didn't like seeing Sam losing colour, his panting becoming increasingly rapid, bordering on dangerous. Panic attacks were not usually life threatening, but in Sam's fragile state Dean hated to think of the damage it could do.

Tim, alerted by the suddenly blaring cardiac monitor, appeared in the doorway, "Guys? What's goin' on?" Seeing the fear on Dean's face he didn't wait for an answer but hurried over, pulled a blood pressure cuff out from behind the bed and wrapped it round Sam's arm.

He frowned at the digital display when the machine beeped. "He's a little hypertensive. He's due some pains meds anyhow, so I'll give him a mild sedative."

"_No...don't...please!"_

"It's ok Sam. You'll be fine." Tim hoped the sedative would calm Sam down and release him from the grip of his nightmare. Sliding the needle into the IV line and pressing the plunger home, all three men watched anxiously.

Within seconds Sam's restlessness eased up and Tim attached a pulse oximeter to his finger, checking the readout for Sam's oxygen saturation.

"Ok buddy, it's not bad but I'm afraid it's back to the mask for you." And gently slid an oxygen mask over Sam's mouth and nose.

"He ok?" Dean asked quietly.

"He soon will be." Tim smiled at the worried expression on Dean and Bobby's faces. "It's just a precaution, given what he's been through." The smile faded a little. "I urge you to help him get to the bottom of this, sooner rather than later. A home counsellor will be able to assist but at the end of the day, you're the only people he trusts. And remember that Sam might still feel driven to suicide if he can't figure this out. Just because he can laugh and joke for a while, doesn't mean he's over the depression."

Examining his patient one last time, Tim stood and moved quietly over to the door. "I never said this ok? But our board of directors won't endorse the use of hypnotherapy. Once you get Sam home, it might be worth a try." With a kindly nod the doctor left the room.

Dean stared at Bobby before his gaze settled back on his little brother.

"You think he's right Bobby? Hypnotherapy?" He shook his head. "Not sure I believe that stuff can even work."

"Oh it can work all right, but it's dangerous if it aint done properly." Dean's gaze shot round at the strange tone in Bobby's voice. "I once had to try it on your father."

_**SSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSS**_

"John had gone on a hunt for a wendigo, when he ran into another hunter, a young cocky little shit, one that didn't like sharin' his sandpit so ta speak. They got into a fight after John offered to help 'im, and the wendigo, smart bastard as it was, chose that moment to strike." Dean listened to Bobby's gruff voice intently. He'd not heard this one before. "You were stayin' with Pastor Jim 'cos both you boys were real sick with flu. You would've been about twelve at the time. Anyway," Bobby waved a hand to indicate he'd finished digressing. "The other hunter got away but your daddy had to fight real hard, and eventually he killed it, but not without injury. He hit his head badly and lost about ten years of memory. When he came home to Kansas, Missouri told him where you were and he headed on out to find ya. But he didn't recognise ya, and certainly had no idea who Sam was. But the hardest part came when we had to tell 'im about Mary. Fortunately you boys were still too out of it to remember anythin', but John took off, confused as hell. We spent weeks tryin' ta find 'im and when we tracked him down he was a mess. He'd been to see some amateur hypnotist, the kind that stands up on a stage and humiliates members of the audience by makin' 'em cluck like chickens. The bastard took your father's money, screwed him up so bad that John lost his entire memory, and disappeared. Never did find 'im."

"Jesus!" Dean breathed out. It was heartbreaking just thinking about what his Dad must've gone through.

"I took him in. We thought it best to keep John away from you 'til he got his memory back." Bobby sighed long and hard. "So I had to fight fire with fire; the main damage had been done by hypnotherapy, so I got ya daddy in a trance and managed to restore his memories."

Dean turned and stared at Sam, watching his oxygen mask fogging up reassuringly with every breath his little brother took.

Still staring, unwilling to look away, he asked quietly "do ya think you could do the same for Sammy?"

_**SSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSS**_

_**Author's notes:**_

Hmm. I would really find Dean's table manners quite disgusting if he weren't so bloody cute. I for one rather like seeing him eat; there's something rather erotic about a gorgeous guy that loves his food!

_Anyway,_ we have, so far, a suspicious looking piece of footage, possibly containing the trade mark of a shape shifter, Sam's nightmare has revealed a little more to us, and now the boys are considering hypnotherapy...anyone want to see Sam cluck like a chicken?

Nah, thought not. And I couldn't in all fairness do that to our poor sweetheart.

_Dean_ on the other hand...

I'm really warming to the idea of Leo Di Caprio as Dr Tim. He can shove his stethoscope down my shirtfront anytime!

Incidentally, just as a bit of fun (and it really has nothing to do with this story, I assure you), anybody want to hazzard a guess as to who the cocky young hunter was? Sound familiar at all?

Would love to know what you think my darlings, so please drop me a review as you leave...

Kind regards,

ST.xxx.


	11. Chapter 11

**Broken Chapter 11**

"_**Shape shifter?" Bobby frowned fiercely. "You sure?"**_

"_**No. We just can't zoom in close enough, and there's too much distortion."**_

_**SSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSS**_

_**If they were indeed dealing with a shape shifter, and Dean hoped to God they were wrong, then it made getting Sam out of hospital imperative. A shape shifter could impersonate anyone convincingly enough to get through security and on to the ward. Maybe even into Sam's room.**_

_**Not only that, but it placed everyone, the doctors, nurses, clerks, patients, and visitors, in immediate danger.**_

"_**You think the shifter was impersonating you when he shot Sam?"**_

_**SSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSS**_

"_**I urge you to help him get to the bottom of this, sooner rather than later. A home counsellor will be able to assist but at the end of the day, you're the only people he trusts. **_

_**And remember that Sam might still feel driven to suicide if he can't figure this out. Just because he can laugh and joke for a while, doesn't mean he's over the depression."**_

_**SSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSS**_

"_**You think he's right Bobby? Hypnotherapy?" He shook his head. "Not sure I believe that stuff can even work."**_

"_**Oh it can work all right, but it's dangerous if it aint done properly." Dean's gaze shot round at the strange tone in Bobby's voice. "I once had to try it on your father."**_

_**SSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSS**_

A lot can happen in a week, and Sam spent the rest of it trying to beg, borrow or steal a laptop from anyone that came into his room, but Dean was keeping an ever watchful eye on his little brother, making sure he rested properly. The hours Sam had spent watching the security footage of the robbery had put too much strain on his back and now he was forced to remain fully prone in bed.

Bobby continued going over the footage, trying to enhance it in any way he could think of, but in the end he had to admit defeat. Instead, leaving a copy with Dean, Bobby made a phone call to his old acquaintance in the police department and took off to see Detective Lightman. The software on Tim's laptop had only been very basic and rudimentary, but Graham Lightman had promised the full works.

Unfortunately, as it turned out, the detective was also struggling to enhance the image but agreed to keep trying and promised to let Bobby know if he found anything.

In the meantime, Sam was driving Dean up the wall.

"No."

"Aw come on..."

"Nope."

"Dean..."

"Nuhuh!" Dean even turned his back on him at that point because his manipulative little shit of a brother had brought out the puppy dog eyes.

"Just once more..."

"Enough! You're not watching it again Sam so just forget it ok?" Dean couldn't really blame him; it was frustrating as hell not being able to clearly see the gunman, but Sam was only going to send himself round the twist if he watched the footage yet again.

When Dean and Bobby had approached the subject of hypnotherapy, Sam had leapt at the idea, even asking Bobby to perform it there and then. A resounding 'no!' had been ringing in Sam's ears ever since, and he had to be content with waiting for his release papers.

"Guys? Can I come in?" Tim poked his head round the door then waved a document at them. "I believe you've been waiting for these..."

It wasn't usual procedure to release a patient in Sam's condition so early on, but given the circumstances Tim felt Sam would be far more comfortable at home under the watchful eye of his brother and uncle. He checked and rechecked Sam's vitals re-examined the surgical 

incision, made sure the stitches were holding and there was no sign of infection. It was all making Tim feel distinctly uneasy but at least Sam was less likely to develop any blood clots by now.

Dean had stood by, arms tightly folded, watching the examination. It was the first time he'd seen the actual wound and it made his jaw tighten, his heart start pounding, and he felt a fresh explosion of rage at Sam's attacker as well as himself.

"You ok Dean?"

On hearing his brother's soft words, Dean had raised his eyes from Sam's back. Sam was lying on his stomach head turned towards Dean, staring at him worriedly. "I'm fine Sam, just came as a shock is all."

It was clean and the stitching neat, but although it appeared to be healing nicely it still looked horrendous. Tim had instructed Dean on changing the dressing every day without fail, he'd also had a long talk about Sam's medication, including pain killers, muscle relaxants and sleeping pills should it become necessary, as well as eventual physical therapy exercises and rest periods. He'd emphasised that last point with a meaningful glance at Sam, and Dean nodded. In the past Sam had a tendency to push himself too hard, but no longer. _Big Brother_ was going to be there to make sure the little _bugger _took regular breaks, even if he had to drug him

In addition, and Dean had to admit to his own peace of mind, Tim was going to stop by every two days for the first couple of weeks, then gradually ease off to one visit per week. A home counsellor would be coming to see Sam once a week, though Sam wasn't entirely happy about that. When he protested that he didn't need one he half expected sarcastic even angry remarks thrown at him by his brother, so he was rather surprised when Dean sat on the edge 

of his bed and quietly pleaded with him to go ahead with the counselling. Patience wasn't exactly one of Dean's strongest attributes especially when it came to his brother's well being, but Tim had been adamant that what Sam needed was a show of support and strength, not anger. So Dean resorted to one of the dirtiest tricks he could think of: emotional blackmail. By the time he was finished Sam was readily agreeing to anything if it helped his big brother get over his guilt.

Reluctantly, Tim agreed it was time for Sam to leave. He still wasn't happy and had furnished Dean with his home number, cell phone number, office number, email address at work and at home, not to mention his pager number. Short of actually falling off the face of the planet there was no way Tim could ever be out of contact with the boys should something go wrong.

_**SSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSS**_

If Sam were able he would've been jiggling his leg impatiently. Instead he had to be content with nervously drumming his fingers on the arm rests of his wheel chair. After everything he'd been through he was finally on the first step of his way home and he waited outside the hospital entrance for Bobby to pull the car around. He felt Dean's eyes boring into the back of his head, and sensed the question before he heard it.

"Bobby mentioned that he'd traded his truck in for something more practical..." It _was_ a question even if it sounded more like a statement. Dean hadn't seen it yet, having stayed at the hospital with Sam all this time.

"Uh...yeah." Sam bit his lip nervously. "He got a vehicle specially designed to take wheelchairs..." His voice got quieter and trailed off.

Dean felt surprised. Sam had sounded embarrassed, then he saw what Bobby was driving as it left the parking lot. It looked like the 'socca mom' people carrier Bobby had once lent the boys after the accident that totalled the Impala and, at the end of the day, killed their father, only this was a much newer model and Dean could make out the modifications as it approached. When the car came to a gentle halt Sam knew just what to do, and used the hydraulic lift with practiced ease to board. Dean watched him with a mixture of sadness and pride. In sixth short months Sam had adapted to this new way of life with barely a complaint; _but he shouldn't have had to!_

Sam adjusted his position then strapped himself in. Raising his gaze to Dean's he tilted his head slightly to one side, silently questioning him.

Dean mentally shook himself. "I'll see you back at Bobby's." He thumped the roof loudly before calling out to Bobby with a false grin. "Drive safely for God's sake! That's my little brother you got in there!"

Which earned him a good natured scowl before the car took off with Sam staring at him in confusion through the window. Dean made his way to the Impala then leaned on the roof for a moment taking a few deep breaths. Sure, he'd spent the week watching Sam in hospital, but each and every day living back at Bobby's, back with his _brother _was going to be like this, learning to understand the ways in which Sam's life had changed in his absence, and if Sam had to feel embarrassed about it all then this wasn't going to work. Dean had to suck it up and learn from his brother; he couldn't afford _any_ of this to be a big deal for Sam's sake.

So with renewed determination, Dean wrenched open the driver's side, climbed in and turned the engine over. One quick check in the rear view mirror and the Impala was roaring away from the hospital, gathering speed as it caught up with Sam and Bobby.

_**SSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSS**_

More of those changes became obvious as Dean entered Bobby house for the first time in sixth months. Last time he'd been here he hadn't even passed over the threshold.

_Yeah, 'cos I was too busy hurting my little brother!_

For a start the main entrance to the house had been widened and a ramp had been built at the base. Now that he thought about it, _all_ doorways had been widened and some of the kitchen worktops had been lowered slightly. Obviously the work of a professional.

But there was also just _so much space_. Furniture had either been replaced or removed altogether and the floor had been re-carpeted.

"You sure you're ok with this?"

Dean turned, a little startled that he hadn't heard Sam's wheelchair creeping up on him. _Must be that new damn carpet. _"Ok with what exactly?"

Sam sighed and waved a hand round the room. "This. You just seem uneasy about it all." He lowered his gaze a little. "If it makes you feel uncomfortable you don't have to stay here. I'll understand."

When Dean rolled his eyes it was aimed at himself. _So much for renewed determination. The poor kid's been home five minutes and he's already embarrassed._

"Sam, look at me." He crouched down to Sam's eye level, grabbing the wheels in case Sam tried to move away. "Yeah I'm a little uneasy, but it aint you're fault. I just hate that all this happened to you." He glanced around the room and smirked a little. "_And_ trying to get used to Bobby's new minimalist decor. Damn place is actually tidy for once!"

When Dean grinned Sam started laughing, and just like that the awkward moment passed.

_**SSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSS**_

The first session with the counsellor ended badly, before it really got started, and was to really set things in motion.

The initial introductions had started so well. Dr Louise Sanders was charming though quiet, but both Bobby and Sam figured that was usual for counsellors. Dean hadn't been there at the time, having to stay out of the way though it killed him. The few people who knew who he was the better and frankly he didn't want any more pressure on Sam than necessary. It was up to Sam to decide what he thought of her, and apparently he'd pretty soon made up his mind.

It wasn't just that Sam didn't want to talk; it was more that he couldn't get the words out and Dean heard him as he slammed out of the session within five minutes, wheels almost burning down the ramp as Sam headed out of the house. But if he thought he was leaving alone, he was very much mistaken.

Before he could get much further, his chair was yanked to a halt. Suddenly a shadow loomed over him and Dean's concerned face appeared in his line of sight.

"Sam, what's wrong?" Sam was breathing too hard, almost in panic and he tried to pull away but Dean held him fast, eventually locking the brakes. "Come on, you're not going anywhere like this. So 'fess up!"

"I...I just can't...she's too pushy...I can't remember anything!" He sounded so agitated that Dean's face hardened.

"What did she say to you?"

Sam ran a shaky hand through his hair. "She just wouldn't let up...about the shooting...wanting to know what I...I don't know! She kept asking about _you_ Dean, and there was just something..._wrong _with that!"

"She's gone. And I've just spoken with Tim." Bobby's voice interrupted, sounding fiercer than either of the boys had ever heard before. "I heard her through the door." Bobby turned to Sam. "She pinned you into the chair didn't she?" At Sam's ashamed nod he continued. "You left before I could step in, and she sped off in her car before I could speak to her. Tim never sent Dr Louise Sanders out to you today. She was supposed to be here tomorrow."

Dean noticed Sam rubbing his upper arms and cursed silently. But when he raised his brother's shirt sleeves and saw the dark bruises on his upper arms, he nearly flipped his lid.

_Sonofabitch!_

Nearly but not quite.

Because Bobby wasn't finished.

"Tim also said that Sanders couldn't have been here at all. She was found dead in her apartment early this morning. Her throat was cut."

Where Sam's expression was stricken, Dean just looked plain deadly.

_**SSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSS**_

Bobby set out immediately to speak to Graham, heading out into the night for answers.

Sam stared morosely into the fire and barely flinched at the sparks when Dean added another log. The fireplace was rarely used this time of year but Bobby had lit it anyway, right before he left to go see the detective. Its warmth proved comforting and it was hoped that with the addition of pain killers, Sam would be able to relax.

As Dean went back to stretching his brother's legs, massaging and kneading the muscles, he watched Sam surreptitiously. Tim had shown him how to make sure Sam's legs didn't atrophy, and under normal circumstances he would've grimaced at how gay this scene might've looked to an outsider. But right now he didn't care. Sam was too quiet and Dean's worry was bordering on the sensible to the ridiculous.

"Sam." Dean spoke softly. "This isn't your fault. You understand that right?"

Sam just nodded, _slowly_.

Or maybe it wasn't so ridiculous.

_Ok. Receptive much?_

And _why do I just not believe you?_

In spite of their time apart Dean had a pretty good idea of the thoughts running through Sam's head.

Sadness and guilt would most likely top the agenda; another innocent dead. But the one that really bugged Dean was the shame he'd witnessed on Sam's face. On discovering the bruises on Sam's arms the first thing that went through Dean's mind was _how could that bitch do this to him?_

But Sam's thinking would run somewhat differently.

_How could I have let her do that to me?_

Sam was feeling scared and vulnerable, and Dean just wasn't sure how to fix it.

Of course, the fact that their suspicions about a shapeshifter being involved were now confirmed should have alleviated, even absolved Sam of that. After all they were unbelievably strong, cunning, and murderous to boot, and Sam was lucky to escape with his life.

But predictably it hadn't.

It hadn't absolved Sam of anything.

Sam was becoming a prisoner in his own body in more ways than one. And Dean had issues with anyone, _anything_ that took pleasure in that.

The next phone call from Bobby certainly didn't help matters.

"That reporter? The one that screwed Sam over with that story? Also been found dead. Same MO." Bobby waited for a reply, and when none came he added "She's been dead for some time. Body found a few days after the article was printed."

"Right." Dean snapped his phone shut and glanced worriedly at Sam. He'd fallen asleep a while ago under the influence of a drug induced hot cocoa. It might have been called a dirty trick by anyone else, but Dean saw it as damage control. Sam couldn't function without a decent night's sleep and he had the nasty feeling he was gonna need all the rest he could get.

Then there was Dean's guilt.

The shapeshifter _had been here!_

_In the same room as his little brother! That bastard was here!_

And that was just too damn close.

Dean felt he could run the risk of thinking aloud.

"It's started."

"But why would a shapeshifter have a problem with Sam? That's the whole point of a shapeshifter; it can shapeshift. It shouldn't matter that Sam could live to recognise his killer." He knew he sounded crazy as he muttered to himself but there was just something...

_No...you're not him...Dean..._

Dean's eyes narrowed when he remembered Sam's frightened voice calling out from a nightmare

_I didn't...kill...your brother..._

Then his eyes widened.

It was finally starting to make some kind of sense.

_**SSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSS**_

_**Author's notes:**_

Had a tough time with this one, have to admit.

In spite of everything, I _am_ working on my updates in my lunch hours, though I'm just waiting for someone to outright ask me what I'm working on and when I refuse to tell them, they'll try looking over my shoulder.

So please tell me. If they persist...should I punch them?

Please say yes, then when I get sacked I can blame it on you!

Just kidding...a little...

Please tell me how you think this is going 'cos I'm worried I'm taking too long with it, but if I go any faster it might be a bit...well...crap.

Love you all.

Kind regards,

ST.xxx.


	12. Chapter 12

**Broken Chapter 12**

"_**I...I just can't...she's too pushy...I can't remember anything!" He sounded so agitated that Dean's face hardened. **_

"_**What did she say to you?"**_

_**Sam ran a shaky hand through his hair. "She just wouldn't let up...about the shooting...wanting to know what I...I don't know! She kept asking about you Dean, and there was just something...wrong with that!"**_

_**SSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSS**_

"_**Tim never sent Dr Louise Sanders out to you today. She was supposed to be here tomorrow."**_

"_**Tim also said that Sanders couldn't have been here at all. She was found dead in her apartment early this morning. Her throat was cut."**_

"_**That reporter? The one that screwed Sam over with that story? Also been found dead. Same MO." Bobby waited for a reply, and when none came he added "She's been dead for some time. Body found a few days after the article was printed."**_

_**SSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSS**_

__

_**Dean's eyes narrowed when he remembered Sam's frightened voice calling out from a nightmare**_

_I didn't...kill...your brother..._

_**SSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSS**_

**_What about Patrick Swayze as the detective? Sexy enough for you guys?_**

**_SSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSS_**

Dean spent the next few hours watching his brother sleep and feeding more logs to the fire. He also realised he was thinking too much and suddenly felt in desperate need of sleep himself, but that was out of the question until Bobby returned. He couldn't leave Sam vulnerable. The shapeshifter had already found a way into the grounds, and it was only a matter of time before it tried again. By force next time perhaps.

It was becoming clear to Dean what they were dealing with, and it was worrying the hell out of him.

_**SSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSS**_

"So, what you got for me? Is it a shapeshifter?" Bobby settled into the chair opposite Graham's desk. His old friend shook his head and pressed the play button.

"I just don't know." Graham's soft Southern accent sounded distracted, awkward even. Bobby couldn't put his finger on it but other than the poor guy was stressed as hell... "Take a look."

Bobby watched the screen. It was the familiar footage of Sam being shot in the back, and the gunman lifting his mask. Then it fast forwarded to the scene where the guy was about to shoot Sam in the head but he turned to stare back down the aisle, as if someone had called to him. Then he took off, leaving a badly injured Sam on the floor bleeding out.

"I'm sorry Bobby. I just can't see that eye flare you mentioned." As if to emphasize his point, Graham skipped back on the PC, zoomed in and set it on frame-by-frame, in slow motion. True enough, there was no eye flare. Not even a suggestion of it in fact.

Not only that, but as familiar as the guy appeared, Bobby was even less convinced that he looked like Dean. Again, Bobby got that feeling that something wasn't quite right. He glanced at his old friend.

"You ok Gray?"

Graham went still for a second, then nodded looking tired. "Long shift. What with those murders..." He withdrew a manila folder from his desk drawer and passed it over. "Thought you might wanna read that. The times of death are particularly interesting. Turned out the first estimates were wrong. The post mortem revealed that the death's happened much later than we were first told."

Bobby narrowed his eyes as glanced through. "Yeah. Often the way. Pretty gruesome stuff. Any leads?"

Graham pinched the bridge of his nose. "Nah, nothin'. Not even a finger print or hair sample. Bastard was thorough." He sat up straight and indicated the screen. "I'll keep on looking, maybe I'll spot something I missed earlier."

"Much appreciated. Well, I guess I'll be off." Bobby got to his feet and stared at Graham. "Don't go at it all night. Get some rest."

Graham smiled wearily and nodded, before his gaze sharpened. "Yeah. Listen, you still gonna try that hypnotherapy on Sam?"

Bobby nodded. "Probably."

"Keep me in the loop, ok? Anything Sam tells you may point us in the right direction with these murders, and any help I can get right now would be good, 'cos I got nothin' but Dr Sander's family breathing down my neck, Beth Cooper's boss is threatening legal action, and one pissed off precinct captain blowin' smoke up his own ass." Graham pointed at Bobby with his pencil. "I helped you cover up Sam's real identity. I expect the favour returned at the nearest opportunity."

"Yeah, I getcha." Bobby was taken aback by his friend's attitude. Graham was a tough cop but still one of the nicest guys around, and it was disconcerting to hear him talk like this. "Just chill Gray, you know I wouldn't hold out on ya."

Graham sagged back in his seat. "Sorry. Can't remember the last time I slept."

Bobby watched with narrowed eyes as Gray swept a tired hand through his hair then rubbed his eyes with the heels of his hands. Any suspicions that were rising in Bobby's mind were soon allayed. A shapeshifter would slip up, act out of character but Graham was certainly behaving not _strange_ as such, just tense, tired and anxious. The guy was obviously under stress and little wonder with two brutal murders and no clues whatsoever.

"I'll leave ya in peace." Bobby adjusted his cap as he headed for the door. "Get some sleep Gray."

"Sure Pa!" Bobby chuckled at the sarcasm.

As Bobby left the office, his back turned, Graham's eyes as his head turned to catch the light, rippled silver in an almost reptilian blink.

_**SSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSS**_

"Sam I want you to relax. Try not to think about anything that's happened today. Put it all outa ya mind. Ok?" Bobby was sitting in a chair beside the couch, where Sam was stretched out, eyes closed, breathing slow and even.

"MmmmmHmmm." Was the only answer forth coming as Sam slid into a semi-conscious state.

Bobby made the suggestion as soon as he got back to the yard. They had let Sam sleep through until morning, allowing him to rouse naturally before Dean fixed him something to eat. Sam had refused to food, claiming he wasn't hungry right up to the point where Dean threatened to force feed him. Fearing his brother might actually make good on that threat, Sam had reluctantly chewed away at the ham and mustard sandwich until only a few crumbs were left.

Dean, having seen way too many detective shows, expected Bobby to use a pocket watch or something bright and shiny, but instead he merely closed the curtains to the den, helped Sam onto the couch, and in a quiet voice asked Sam to close his eyes. Dean had been surprised, listening to the calm lilt to Bobby's normally gruff countenance, as he stood in the doorway leaning against the frame. Dean didn't want his brother to know he was there in case it distracted him, but at the same time he couldn't bring himself to leave altogether, especially after what happened the previous day with the 'counsellor'. Not that he didn't trust Bobby, 

just the reverse; but these days Dean felt uncomfortable whenever Sam was out of his sight for any length of time.

"Let's go back to that day, Sam. But remember that you're safe here, and no one can hurt you. You're out on the road; what's happening?"

Sam didn't answer for such a long time that Bobby was worried he sent him too deep, but just as he glanced at Dean, Sam spoke up.

"Need gas, gonna stop and fill up." Sam whispered. "Feeling angry; store's closed but no one's left a note on the door, or closed the pumps off."

Sam kept on talking softly and seemed fairly relaxed, even when he talked about the shooting. Dean wondered if watching the CCTV scenes had helped him come to terms with what happened after all, until Bobby asked a question.

"Sam, do you see the gunman? Is he speaking to you at all?"

Sam tensed up and went still for a moment. When he spoke again he was obviously stressed. "He's rolling up the ski mask, and...and...no!" Dean watched Sam shift restlessly on the sofa, clearly frightened. Bobby whispered to him reassuringly until he calmed down a little. "He's been looking for us, me and Dean. Shapeshifter." His breathing sped up, and Bobby tried to calm him once again.

"Easy son. Who does the shapeshifter look like?"

Sam went silent again.

"Sam?"

"He wants revenge; he thinks we killed his brother. I can't figure out what the hell he's talking about...he's asking me where Dean is, but I'm in too much pain to answer any of his 

questions. He's knows what happened in St Louis, he knows Dean's still alive." Perspirations beaded on Sam's cheeks and forehead and Dean made a gesture to Bobby: enough was enough.

But before Bobby could end the session, Sam carried on talking, almost desperately.

"I want to talk but I can barely breathe, and he's getting angry. Telling me that he's gonna catch up with Dean and kill him. Now he's pointing the gun at me; it's almost over, he's gonna kill me...someone's shouting from the front of the store, sounds like there's been a fight. He's smiling...so much like Dean..." Sam trailed off before continuing. "He says he wouldn't waste the bullet, not when he can find me soon enough and use me to get to Dean. Now he's runnin', back up the aisle...and all I can feel is _pain...so much pain...Dean_." Sam looked exhausted. Dean, heart breaking a little, glanced meaningfully at Bobby, who nodded. They'd both heard enough.

"Ok you did great Sam. I want you to rest for now; you'll wake up gradually and feel much better, less tired." Sam nodded sleepily and Dean grabbed an old blanket from the back of the sofa and draped it over his little brother in case he got cold. Pausing to brush Sam's long fringe behind his ears, Dean stared down at him worriedly. He hoped to Christ they hadn't pushed him too far.

Then both Dean and Bobby silently left the room.

"Well?" Dean demanded. "What did your cop friend say that made you burn rubber to get here and put Sam under?"

"Dean, I think we may have messed with Sam's head with the suggestion it was a shape shifter."

"What? What the hell does that mean?" Frustration coloured Dean's voice though he tried to keep it down for Sam's sake. "Sam knows what he saw Bobby! And everything he just told us ties in. Remember when he called out in his sleep? He said "I didn't kill your brother." Which is true, Sam didn't..._I_ did."

"Again that could just be auto-suggestion; we unintentionally planted the idea in Sam's mind because we couldn't think of another explanation. Sam latched onto it for the same reason only his was more desperate. He needed closure. The rest, well, Sam's smart enough to put together a motive for a shapeshifter comin' after you both." Bobby removed his hat and scratched behind his ear. "Graham managed to enhance the image on the CCTV footage. Yeah the guy looks a _little _like you Dean, same height and similar shaped face, enough to confuse a barely conscious Sam suffering from pain, shock and blood loss, but there was no eye flare, even when he looked right at the camera! No I'm sorry Dean. I don't think we can rely on Sam's testimony."

Dean fell silent and nodded reluctantly. "Ok, so how do you account for Dr Sander's being here when she was already dead?"

Bobby sighed and handed over the photocopied post mortem report. "Take a read."

Dean stared down at the paperwork and understanding quickly grew. The first officers on the scene could only make preliminary guesses, but the post mortem would provide the more accurate answers, based on condition of the body, room temperature and outside air temperature. He could see how the difference of a few hours could have come about. The post mortem timed the counsellor's death _after_ the run in with Sam.

"But what about her attitude? She treated Sam like crap!" Dean fumed.

"Showin' up a day early can happen to the best of us, thinking its Thursday when it's actually Wednesday. 'Ccording to that report she'd been going through a messy divorce and they haven't ruled her husband out as a suspect 'cos he'd been buggin' her; personal trauma interfering with her professional life and all that...though that doesn't account for the journalist's murder. And Graham's pretty sure the two are linked somehow." Bobby shrugged. "Maybe the reporter was about to release a sordid story about the divorce and that put her in the crossfire."

"That's a hellova stretch Bobby." Dean eyed the report again, anger giving way to helplessness.

"Yeah, I know. But we'll just have to figure out another way to approach Sam about this." Bobby understood Dean's frustration.

"Huh." Dean turned to glance back at the room. "After all he's been through, and now we're gonna tell him he's crazy? No way Bobby. I can't do that to 'im."

"So, you're gonna what? Let him think a damn shapeshifter's out to kill you both just to keep his trust? Come on Dean ya know ya can't do that to 'im either!" Bobby whispered loudly.

"Shit!" Dean ran hand through his short hair. He glanced at Bobby once more. "Are you _sure _about that report? I mean, Graham could have been right after all."

The older man sighed. "He's gonna keep on checking that footage just in case. He promised he'd call if he spotted anything." He shook his head wearily and checked his watch. "But I know what I saw Dean, and that film was as enhanced as it was gonna get. I'd better call Graham and fill him in, then I gotta go into town and pick up some spare parts."

Dean nodded morosely. "Yeah. Tim'll be round later to give Sam his daily check-up." Staring at the hallway carpet for a second, Dean huffed. "I'm so not looking forward to this."

_**SSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSS**_

Sam woke up slowly in the soft gloom of Bobby's den and yawned. He felt oddly refreshed for the first time in months as he glanced round the room. Spying his wheelchair he reached out and snagged the arm, pulling it closer before heaving himself off the couch. Settling himself as comfortably as he could, he wheeled over to the doorway just in time to catch Dean and Bobby's conversation.

It felt as though Sam's heart had plummeted to his feet as he stayed just out of sight, listening to his brother and 'uncle'. There was the muted sound of someone dialling a cell phone, then Bobby was talking, telling whoever was on the other end of the line about Sam's account of the shooting.

"_Sure Gray. I'll be right over."_ Bobby, obviously hanging up and speaking to Dean. "_Graham wants me to go pick up that disc and return the case file. Thinks he's got a suspect for the Dr Sanders's murder."_

"_Sure. I'll see ya later." _Dean replied, and Sam could hear a set of footsteps retreating, followed a few seconds later by the sound of Bobby's car pulling away.

Sam backed his chair away from the door when he heard footsteps coming back into the den. He tried to school his features but failed. He felt miserable as hell, and that obviously showed on his face because when Dean finally entered the room he halted abruptly.

Shifting from foot to foot, Dean stared at Sam sorrowfully. "You heard that didn't you?"

An uncomfortable silence followed and seemed to stretch on forever. Dean didn't know what to say. He could sense Sam's feelings of angry betrayal, but more than that he felt his little brother's sadness and wished he could take it all back.

"I'm not lying." Sam stared back and inwardly cringed when he heard his own voice shaking with emotion.

"Sam..."

"And I'm _not _crazy." Sam felt his eyes filling with tears and blinked them away. "I was having nightmares at the hospital about it before you even _suspected_ a shapeshifter, so how could it be auto-suggestion? Please, Dean...you have to believe me."

Before Dean could answer him the muffled strains of Smoke Over Water came from his jacket pocket. Checking the display he frowned and answered. "Tim?" Dean sounded surprised. "You on your way over dude?"

He glanced at Sam his frown deepening. "What? When? Yeah...ok, I'm on my way." He snapped his phone shut. "Sam, I've gotta get to the hospital ok? It doesn't sound too serious but Bobby's been in a car crash."

"Wait! I'll come with you!" Sam pushed on the wheels and glided over to Dean.

"It'll take too long to get you settled in the Impala, Sam." Dean countered, not unkindly. "You look beat. Get some rest ok? I'll call you when I get there, let you know the full story."

Sam followed Dean to the front porch then watched him drive away, a myriad of emotions swamping him, pulling him under. Dean hadn't meant to sound condescending but that was how it came across, and it made Sam feel like an unwanted weight round his big brother's neck. Wheeling himself back to the den Sam wanted to punch something, his anger felt so out of control but it didn't last, and soon gave way to self-loathing and regret. Finally giving in, Sam buried his head in his hands and sobbed silently.

_**SSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSS**_

Dean's frown didn't let up as he drove away from the yard. His worry for Bobby, in spite of Tim's assurances that his injuries weren't life threatening, kept him busy thinking of all the possible complications that could lead to something serious, reminding him of his dad after the semi hit the Impala, although that had more to do with John trading his life for Dean's.

It didn't occur to him to wonder why Tim's name hadn't come up on his caller ID.

_**SSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSS**_

Bobby hauled himself out of the truck and glared at the steps up to the police station. It would be the second time today he'd have to climb those damn things and he wasn't getting any younger.

Finally reaching the reception desk with no small amount of huffing, Bobby nodded to the desk sergeant. "Bobby Singer to see Detective Graham Lightman please."

"I'm sorry sir, Detective Lightman went off duty thirty minutes ago. Can I help you with anything?"

Bobby stared at the young sergeant, a cold, hollow pit of unease growing inside.

_**SSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSS**_

Sam was instantly on the alert and grabbed a kitchen knife from the rack when he heard the screen door opening in the hallway. He tried calling his brother's cell phone but there was no signal.

_What?_

Trying not to panic, he wheeled as fast and as silently as he could back into the den, but when the sickly smelling cloth was pressed over his nose and mouth, he knew he'd made the same mistake as before.

He struggled and even tried to run over the bastard's foot but he could feel his efforts fading, coming to nothing.

_Dean..._

Sam couldn't fight the chloroform for long and his body gradually surrendered, head pressed against some immovable force behind him. His struggling efforts became subdued, his hands shaking as he tried but failed to wrench the drugged cloth away. He moaned and grunted when his attacker punished his struggles by pressing it harder over his face, almost smothering him.

"_Bait..." _he hissed in Sam's ear. Sam caught one glimpse of those compelling green eyes and he lost control of his vision.

And _that_ was all he heard before the darkness overwhelmed him.

_**SSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSS**_

The Impala screeched to a halt and Dean leapt out, racing into the reception area.

"I'm here for Bobby Singer. Dr Rogers called me..."

Before he could start either charming or hassling the desk nurse an amused voice made itself known.

"Dean? I think you should know I don't swing that way." Tim's grin faded when he saw Dean's worried gaze.

"Tim? How's Bobby?"

Tim stared at him, head tilted to the side. "What?"

Dean glared at him. "You called me..." And the look on Tim's face said it all.

Hitting speed dial didn't make things any easier, especially when Sam didn't pick up.

Dean broke the land speed record as he headed out of the hospital grounds, Impala fish-tailing under the onslaught. Dean growled as he put his foot down.

"_Shitshitshitshit...should've listened, should've listened."_

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_**Author's notes:**_

Finally the action has started and poor Sam was doubting himself. Well, they all were eh?

Let me know what you think. Finding this fic a little hard now but I'm still enjoying reading your reviews so it's worth it!

And I'll bet Sendintheclowns is having multiple orgasms over that last scene with Sam...?

Kind regards,

ST.xxx.


	13. Chapter 13

**Broken Chapter 13**

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Presenting the final chapter. **Please read the warning!**

So here we are, the grand finale to Broken, and what a ride this last chapter has been! In some places it was easy to write but in other places it became completely intense. I've made it extra long as a treat to those who have stuck by me throughout this story.

Enjoy!

_**Warning:**_ _Implied_ threat of sexual abuse, and of course violence.

**Please don't read if you don't like!**

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_**As Bobby left the office, his back turned, Graham's eyes suddenly rippled silver in an almost reptilian blink.**_

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__

"_**He says he wouldn't waste the bullet, not when he can find me soon enough and use me to get to Dean. Now he's running, back up the aisle...and all I can feel is pain...so much pain...Dean." Sam looked exhausted. Dean, heart breaking a little, glanced meaningfully at Bobby, who nodded.**_

_**SSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSS**_

"_**Dean, I think we may have messed with Sam's head with the suggestion it was a shape shifter."**_

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"_**I'm not lying." Sam stared back and inwardly cringed when he heard his own voice shaking with emotion.**_

"_**Sam..."**_

"_**And I'm not crazy." Sam felt his eyes filling with tears and blinked them away. "I was having nightmares at the hospital about it before you even suspected a shapeshifter, so how could it be auto-suggestion? Please, Dean...you have to believe me."**_

_**SSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSS**_

__

_**Sam, I've gotta get to the hospital ok? It doesn't sound too serious but Bobby's been in a car crash."**_

_**SSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSS**_

"_**Tim? How's Bobby?"**_

_**Tim stared at him, head tilted to the side. "What?"**_

_**Dean glared at him. "You called me..." And the look on Tim's face said it all.**_

_**Hitting speed dial didn't make things any easier, especially when Sam didn't pick up.**_

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Before Dean left the hospital perimeter, Tim had grabbed his medical equipment, asked his secretary to hand his ward round duties over to the other on-duty doctor, and was behind the wheel of his Aston Martin DB7. He soon caught up with the Impala and together they raced at a ridiculous speed to Bobby's yard.

Dean glanced at the Aston's headlights in his review mirror and frowned. This was no place for a doctor, no matter who his mother might have been. Tim was not a hunter and could wind up dead. Pulling up half a mile away from the yard and killing the engine, Dean grabbed a flashlight, leapt out and strode over to the low slung supercar.

"Tim, what in hell are you doing? Go back to the hospital for Christ sake!" Dean leaned in the window threateningly. "Don't you have patients to see? You're gonna get yourself killed!"

Tim just shook his head. "I'm assuming the shit's hit the fan and that bastard's shown up?" At Dean's sharp nod, he continued calmly. "Sam could be injured and given his recent problems he might need medical help straight away. You wanna take the risk dude?"

Dean glared at him, knowing he was right.

Just to make sure Tim added, "And when push comes to shove, you could use all the help you can get."

"All right." Dean wasn't at all happy with the arrangement, but it looked like he had no choice. There was no way of knowing if Bobby was on his way, shit, he could be dead for all Dean knew, and if Sam was being held hostage then this could get real ugly, _real_ quickly.

The rumble of an engine sounded far behind them before a set of headlights crested the slight hill in the road.

_Guess that answers __**that**__ question_, Dean thought to himself with no small amount of relief. As the vehicle drew near and came to a stop, Dean found himself running to the driver's side and yanking open the door. "Bobby?" He raised the flashlight and shone it into Bobby's eyes, who batted it away impatiently.

"Get that thing away from me; you _tryin'_ to destroy my damn night vision?"

Dean gave a weak grin, doing his best not to hug the ol' guy, and also glad there was no eye flare or distortion evident in his friend's eyes. "We have a situation."

Bobby nodded. "We sure do."

Tim had made his way over and joined in the discussion, listening intently to both hunters' explanations. By the time Bobby and Dean had finished, Tim realised just how truly grim things were.

Dean headed to the trunk of the Impala. "Let's load up and go, but leave the cars here. We can't afford to alert the bastard so it's silent runnin' folks." He started pulling shotguns, small firearms and knives out of the trunk.

Tim stared at the hunting knife and hand gun Dean held out to him, then tentatively accepted them. Dean eyed him carefully. "You know how to use those?"

Tim nodded. "Yeah, I practice at the local rifle range pretty regularly. Never had to use one for real though."

Dean smirked humourlessly. "Let's hope it doesn't come to that. This bastard's mine. You're there for back up and medical treatment if someone gets hurt; don't get involved unless you have to." Having said that, he had to admire the doc's bravery; not many people outside the hunting community would be prepared to risk their lives for a Winchester.

"We ready?" Dean raised an eyebrow, and Bobby didn't think he'd ever seen so serious and determined an expression on the kid's face. When Tim nodded again, and Bobby tipped the peak of his cap, he turned on his heel and headed into the shadows on the side of the road. "Time to move out." Dean whispered, already melting into the darkness.

_**SSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSS**_

Sam felt sick and groggy. His chin was resting on his chest, neck aching from the awkward position, and he raised his head slowly. Trying to shift slightly to ease the discomfort, his eyes snapped open when he found himself virtually immobile. Tugging on his wrists, Sam quickly realised they were secured behind him to the folding crossbars at the back of his wheel chair; the clink of metal on metal indicated his were restraints were hand cuffs. Not rope. _Shit. _

He tried to call out but his mouth was sealed shut by ductape. Sam struggled, cuffs biting into his wrists as he tugged viciously in a useless attempt to break free. When a knife flashed across his vision and rested against his throat he stilled, his rapid breathing the only movement.

"Awake a last huh?" A familiar voice, dripping with sarcasm spoke in Sam's ear startling him. "Thought you were gonna sleep the night away. And that would've been a great shame _Sammy_; just think of all the fun I'd have missed out on."

A soft ringing noise caught his attention and Sam's own cell phone appeared in front of him, the caller ID revealing Dean's name. The phone was dropped to the floor and a loud crunch silenced the ring tone.

Sam swallowed convulsively. He felt his anger rising with each warm breath that caressed his neck, and he refused to give the murderous bastard the satisfaction of showing fear.

"I've been searching for you a long time. Guessed Dean would catch up with you eventually, but that news article." Another warm puff of air, "now that was just sweet. Told me everything I needed to know. When I came to see you yesterday you were kinda rude, leaving the house before I'd finished _counselling _you. And _that_." A low chuckle. "Just won't do, Sammyboy. Your brother's gonna pay for killing _my_ brother."

As the knife travelled lower, Sam tried not to wince when he felt the blade pierce his skin, carving out a neat, shallow gouge in his chest. Shifter-Dean chuckled again, the sound grating on Sam's nerves. Sure, it _sounded_ like Dean, but it wasn't. And that thought had the fine hairs on the back of his neck rising up.

The shifter moved round the chair slowly, crouched down so he could look Sam in the eye. Sam met his gaze with defiance and anger.

"Oh the things I'd like to do to you Sammy. You and that pretty mouth o'yours. And once I've taken care of your brother, I might just..._indulge myself!_"

Sam's eyes widened when his meaning sank in. He started shaking his head, lips curling up in a snarl beneath the tape as the shifter reached out a hand and almost lovingly caressed Sam's jaw.

Sam felt bile creep up his throat at the very thought of this thing touching him like that. He'd rather die.

Shifter-Dean moved closer. "Ya know I'm amazed it never crossed your brother's mind before. That he never once wondered how you'd taste, what you'd feel like beneath him. Guess he doesn't swing that way huh?" He leaned in as if to whisper in Sam's ear, but he didn't get the chance.

Utter disgust caused Sam's fraying temper to finally snap, and he reared his head back before shoving it forward again with as much force as he could gather, his forehead connecting with the soft cartilage of the shifter's nose.

The shifter fell backwards clutching his face, blood pouring out from between his fingers.

"_Sonofabitch!"_ And Sam shook his head to clear it before grinning to himself. _Now_ the shifter sounded like Dean.

The shapeshifter sprung to his feet clearly outraged, raised the knife...and pressed the tip into Sam's thigh, just over his femoral artery.

"Tell me something Sammy. Do you think your brother will get here in time to save you?" He barked out and the blade sank in slowly, forcing a muffled cry of pain from the young Winchester. "Or do you think you'll bleed out before he gets the chance?" The knife sank in further and the shifter twisted the hilt, placing more pressure on it.

Sam's head snapped back, the cries turned into screams, as he vented his pain into the ductape. He could feel the rush of warmth and knew his femoral artery had been nicked, possibly severed outright. Another slow thrust and the blade was firmly wedged in Sam's thigh. Hyperventilating through his nose, trying to ignore the pain, he felt the blood drain from his face and he thought he would pass out.

_No! Stay awake! When Dean gets here he's gonna need my help._

He tugged on his wrists again and concentrated on staying conscious. It wasn't easy, but the smug grin on the shifter's face caused another fresh burst of anger, and boy! Did that help!

The tape was suddenly ripped from his mouth, taking what felt like several layers of skin with it.

"Whadya say?" Shifter-Dean leaned in again but was unfortunately smart enough to keep his distance this time. "How long dya think ya have baby boy?"

Sam raised his head and glared. "_Fuck you! You mutant asshole!"_ The flash of anger across the shifter's face was instantly followed by a blow to the side of Sam's head so powerful that 

the wheelchair tipped over and Sam found himself lying on his side, still trapped. He grimaced in pain as he turned his head to continue glaring up at the shifter.

"Being rude again Sam, not good." He raised a finger and waggled it at him in admonishment. "You're really tryin' my patience kid."

The bastard smirked and raised a booted foot, about to plant it in Sam's face, but a shot rang out and he dropped and rolled. Ducking and whirling, he pulled a berretta from the waist band of his jeans and took out one of the lamps nearby, plunging most of the room into darkness. Sam heard a brief scuffle then silence.

He was pretty sure the shifter was no longer in the room and he rested his aching head on the carpet. Sam reflected bitterly that the only thing stopping him from bleeding to death was the knife the shifter had thoughtfully left in his thigh.

_Just fucking perfect!_

_**SSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSS**_

They'd adopted a five meter spread as they crept along the roadside, Dean in front, followed by Bobby then Tim. When they reached the gates they were sealed by a padlock and chain from the inside. Bobby raised an eyebrow. It was brand new, not even the slightest hint of rust or tarnish.

Dean made quick work picking the lock, then slowly pushed the gates open. Another raised eyebrow from Bobby. Someone had oiled the hinges recently, which explained how the shapeshifter had been able to get the drop on Sam. And they were all pretty sure that's what had happened. Dean had tried Sam's cell phone once more on route to the yard and there was 

still no answer. Sam never went anywhere without his cell, especially these days, and he _always _answered without fail.

His little brother was in deep trouble, and it was scaring the hell out of Dean.

His fear shot up even further when they moved closer to the house and spied Sam gagged and bound through the lighted windows of the den. Even this far away Dean could see the anger in his brother's eyes and as the shifter leaned in, Dean nearly stood up and applauded when Sam took the opportunity to nut the bastard.

"That's m'boy," Dean whispered in grim amusement. But what happened next stole his breath and anger coursed through him. His heart clenched at the pain he saw on Sam's face as the shifter slowly but surely thrust the blade deep into Sam's thigh. A slight twist and Sam shot up straight in his seat, head thrown back, clearly in agony.

Dean whispered without turning. "Bobby, guard the front door, Tim you guard the side entrance." Watching as the tape was ripped from Sam's mouth, a short exchange of words and the shifter belted Sam hard across the head, tipping him over. "Push has come to shove."

They moved out again. But Dean had a few words for Tim.

"I'll try to keep him away from you but if I fail, shoot first..."

"And ask questions later." Tim finished for him, clutching both his medical case and weapon.

Dean glanced at him then, a feral look clouding his face. "_There aint nothin' I wanna ask 'im_."

Tim and Bobby disappeared. Dean glanced through the window again; he couldn't see his little brother given that he was on the floor by now, but he knew exactly what the shifter had 

in mind when he drew back his foot. Dean reacted instantly. He couldn't stand by and see Sam hurt again. He raised his weapon and fired, the bullet smashing through the glass. It was a perfect shot, or would have been if not for the slight kink in the window that changed the trajectory of the silver round just enough to miss the shapeshifter, who disappeared from sight immediately. There came the sound of another shot being fired and the lights went out.

"Damnit!" Dean whispered to himself loudly. He had no time to lose. Moving as silently as he could, he jumped up on the veranda, headed for the side door, and found it unlocked. Dropping into defensive stance he cocked his head and listened. Nothing moved. Swinging round he quietly opened the door and slipped inside. A small sound to the left and Dean knew the shifter was no longer in the den. The damn thing was stalking him.

It couldn't matter right now because Sam was injured and Dean had no idea how badly. Decision made, he crept silently into the den and made for the dark shape lying prone near the sofa.

"Sam, you with me buddy?" Dean whispered as loudly as he dared. The shape moved slightly and a small moan had Dean down on his knees. He quickly but gently placed a hand over Sam's mouth when he whimpered and tried to struggle away. "It's ok. It's Dean."

Sam went still and Dean wondered if he'd lost consciousness. Lifting his hand away slowly, he strained his eyes to see his brother's face in the gloom. "Sammy? You ok? How badly did he hurt you?"

"Dean...knife in my leg...artery..." Sam rasped out painfully. "Knife's still in."

Heart sinking, Dean cradled Sam's head gently in his hands. "Tim's here. He'll fix you up, but don't remove the blade ok? Sam? Ya hear me bro?" Sam managed a weak nod and Dean smiled worriedly. He couldn't tell how much blood loss had occurred but if the knife 

had indeed hit an artery then Sam needed help right away. But first he had to take care of the shifter before anyone else got hurt.

"Let's get you outta those cuffs, then I want you to stay still and silent. I don't want him targeting you again." After freeing Sam's wrists, Dean ripped his belt through the loops of his jeans and tied it tightly round Sam's injured thigh, only the slight hitch to Sam's breathing an indication of just how much that must have hurt him. Dean whispered an apology, promised he'd be back, then moved off.

Sam lay there in the dark massaging his sore wrists and worrying about his big brother. This shapeshifter was particularly vicious and far smarter than the ones both brothers had previously encountered.

A loud crash came from deep within the house and someone cried out in pain. It sounded like Dean, and Sam anxiously tried to twist his upper body so he could see round the sofa. Running feet approached the den, and Dean appeared breathing heavily, leaning against the doorframe.

"Damnit Sammy, that is one mean bastard!" He staggered forward and dropped to his knees beside Sam. "How's the leg?"

Sam didn't answer at first. But when he did he spoke soft and slow.

"Painful. Can you call Tim? I think he's at the hospital."

"Sure Sam..."

And that proved it.

"DEAN!" Sam let loose with a loud yell, which was cut off almost instantly by the shifter's hand clamping down hard over his mouth.

"Sammy?" And _that _was Dean, Sam realised with relief that his brother was still alive. "Sam you ok? Answer me!"

Sam struggled, trying to rip the hand away but the shifter readjusted his position and used his thumb to pinch off Sam's nose. "Quiet!" He hissed loudly. Sam, wide eyed with fear, tried to scratch and claw his way free, the angle he was lying at hindering any efforts to throw a punch. He even tried to bite his way out but the shifter had his jaw in a vice-like grip, and Sam was starting to fade as he slowly suffocated.

Shifter-Dean moved round behind Sam holding his upper body tight against his as a human shield, still keeping his grip of iron over Sam's mouth and nose. Even semi-conscious Sam could just make out his older brother entering the room and saw the shifter raise his gun.

_Dean no!_

Using the last of his reserves, Sam reached down and yanked out the knife, wincing at the shaft of agony that ran through his leg, and plunged it into the shifter's foot, who immediately roared in anger and not only dropped his hold on Sam but leapt up in shock from the pain.

Straight into Dean's line of fire.

And this time, he didn't miss.

After emptying the entire clip of silver rounds, Dean watched dispassionately as the creature wearing his face dropped to the floor stone dead.

Dean just stared at him, a sense of déjà vu briefly attacking him. But a small whimper brought him back to the present. "Sam?" He reached out and snapped on the main overhead light then stared in horror at his little brother. "Shit! Sammy what the hell did you do?" Dean yelled in fear. "I told you not to pull out the knife...oh God!"

Sam offered up a tired smile. "Hurts...Dean..."

Dean bit his lip hard and pulled Sam from the over turned wheelchair. Holding him close, he tried to stop the bleeding by pressing down with his hand. In spite of the tourniquet Sam was now losing too much blood, and Dean just didn't know if he could help.

"I know it hurts Sam, but Tim's here. He'll know wh..." he nearly sobbed in dismay. He took a deep breath. "He'll know what to do."

"No...you don't understand." Sam whispered softly. "I can feel pain...in my leg..."

Dean wondered if his little brother was finally losing it, either from the blow to his head or the blood loss. Then he blinked as realisation dawned.

_Sam can feel pain in his leg...holy crap!_

"Sam..." Dean didn't know what to say. "You...does that mean you might walk again?"

"I...I thin...thi..." Sam eyes rolled back in his head and he slumped in Dean's arms.

"Sam no! No you can't do that to me...Sam!" Dean started shaking him gently. "Not now. NOT NOW DAMNIT!"

But the blood loss had been too much and Sam was just plain exhausted.

"Sammy..." Dean whispered, feeling his little brother's heart rate gradually slow. He rocked Sam in his arms, heart breaking as he called to him, begging him to come back. "You can't go now. You're gonna walk again Sam, I need to see you walk again. Please..."

"Dean where are you man? You two ok?" Tim called out. He'd heard the shots and when nothing but silence followed had stormed in, searching for the den. He met up with Bobby 

just as they heard Dean roar in anguish, and the two of them crept cautiously through the house just in case Dean had been unsuccessful, and the shifter was still alive.

Bobby stopped at the door to the den. "Oh God Sam." He motioned for Tim to follow him, and while Bobby stared in sorrow at the fallen boys, the doctor sprang into action.

"Sam? Can you hear me?" Tim checked his eyes, pulse, pulled out a blood pressure monitor and eventually went on to check the knife wound, muttering softly to his patient.

Dean watched him work feeling completely disconnected. He was no fool. Sam had been through too much and was bleeding to death miles from the nearest hospital.

"Dean? Help me get him on the sofa; we need to keep his leg raised up above the level of his heart and I want that tourniquet tightened. As much pressure as you can ok?" Tim waved a hand in front of Dean's face and snapped his fingers. "Hey! It's not over yet. You want your brother to live? Then give me a hand here!"

Dean shook himself and got to work, still unable to believe that even Tim could save his little brother's life now; Sam was terribly pale, his breathing shallow and heart rate too slow. As soon as Sam was settled on the couch Tim put him on oxygen, set up an IV and put in a call to the emergency services, whilst Bobby and Dean went in search of blankets. By the time they came back Sam's wounded thigh was heavily bandaged, though blood still seeped through.

"Is there anything else we can do for him?" Dean asked as he stared at Sam, fearful now that Tim had bought him hope again, _bought Sam some time_.

"Just keep him warm and rested, and talk to him. The ambulance will be here soon." Tim carried on monitoring Sam, answering Dean's questions. Bobby stood guard over all three, also watching for any signs that the shifter might have survived, though judging from the 

bullet holes in the upper left of the creature's chest that was pretty unlikely. Bobby thought about dragging the thing outside for a salt and burn right this minute, but he didn't want to leave the boys. Not now.

Dean slid in behind Sam on the couch and wrapped his arms round his waist, pulling the blankets up to his neck. Sam had just started shivering and Tim explained that delayed shock was setting in; something that he'd hoped to counteract when he set up the IV. But Sam needed a blood transfusion badly.

"Can we do it here?" Dean spoke up hopefully. "I have the same blood type as Sam."

Tim scratched his head. "It's risky...I just don't know. If it goes wrong it could kill him."

Sam shuddered, let out a small whimper and snuggled deeper into the blankets, his head tucked under Dean's chin. Dean reached up a hand and cupped Sam's jaw, whispering softly. When he looked up and caught Tim's troubled gaze he raised an eyebrow. "And if he _doesn't_ get that transfusion...?"

Chewing on his lip, Tim thought hard. The ambulance _was _on its way and its crew had been forewarned about the need for several units of blood, but Sam was almost out of time and the crew were at least thirty minutes out.

Decision made, he suddenly clapped his hands and rubbed them together like a magician about to perform his favourite trick. "Ok. Let's get to work. Bobby? I'm gonna need your help. Dean you just lie back and relax. Your job is to keep Sam warm, calm and still."

"Not a problem." Dean gently pulled Sam's right arm out from beneath the blankets and gently rubbed the pale flesh, softly talking to his little brother. "Ok Sam. Just hang in there for me." Then held out his own arm.

Tim was fairly sure it would be ok, seeing as Sam had been transfused with his brother's blood not so long ago, but just to be on the safe side he administered antihistamine and acetaminophen into Sam's IV in case of any adverse transfusion reactions.

Bobby took charge of Dean's arm, muttering about stubborn-assed Winchesters and swabbing the crook of his elbow with an alcohol wipe, whilst Tim dealt with Sam's. It didn't take long before both boys had a cannula in their arms, and Dean's blood was snaking its way into Sam's body.

"The ambulance will be here before we're finished, but at least we've made a start." Tim settled in to monitor the pair of them closely.

Dean became more optimistic when Sam regained consciousness albeit only briefly.

"Dean? You ok?" he whispered sluggishly through the oxygen mask, to which Dean chuckled softly.

"Yeah. And so are you."

"Heard you...you were in pain...wha' happened?"

"Bastard took me by surprise and threw me head first into a bookcase. Which reminds me, Bobby? Made a bit of mess back there. Sorry dude." Dean grinned at Bobby's scowl.

"Figures." The grizzled hunter grunted in response.

Sam sighed as his eyes slipped shut again, and Dean glanced worriedly at Tim.

"Sam's doing just fine but he's exhausted. Let him sleep for now." Tim smiled reassuringly at the older brother.

"He said he could feel pain in his leg when he was stabbed. That's good news right?" Dean just couldn't bring himself to stop worrying. "I mean, he couldn't feel anything before."

Tim's eyebrows crept up in surprise. "Damn straight that's good news! That's better than good!" He eyed Sam's sleeping form happily and Dean relaxed a little. "A cause for celebration in fact!"

"Well skewer me with a fish hook!" Bobby sat up straight on hearing that. "Does that mean...?"

Tim nodded enthusiastically. "Yep. If Sam's getting sensations in his leg, able to feel pain, then there's a good chance he'll eventually walk again."

Bobby was amazed and immediately began a discussion with Tim about treatment, physical therapy regimes and pain management. Dean felt himself slip into a comfortable doze, happy to have his brother tucked safe and alive in his arms.

_**SSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSS**_

Tim poked his head round the door to Sam's room and grinned. Both brothers were asleep, Dean resting his head on Sam's bed, hand still tightly gripping his sibling's in spite of the obviously deep slumber. Sam looked just as peaceful not to mention a lot less pale than he had a few hours ago before the surgery to patch up his leg, though his haemoglobin levels were still a little on the low side and Tim continued to keep a close eye on things. He felt a gentle shove from behind and almost fell into the room as Bobby Singer appeared.

"Thought you were never gonna move." Bobby hissed quietly. He wanted to see his boys, and as far as he was concerned they _were_ his boys. "How they doin?"

Tim chuckled softly. "They're both pretty tired but Sam's been awake from time to time, so that's put Dean's mind at ease. I've run some more scans on Sam in fact and everything seems fine, his back wasn't injured by what happened."

"Good." Bobby sat in the other chair. "What about his leg?" He listened to Tim assurances that the wound was healing nicely. Bobby was pretty exhausted himself after ducking out for a few hours to get rid of the shapeshifter's body. Boy! That'd been a pleasant experience, burning a dead ringer for Dean Winchester! Talk about weird! On top of that Bobby had a visit from Graham Lightman's captain. The detective had been found dead behind the wheel of his abandoned car and the time of death had been established as a few hours before Bobby went to see him about the CCTV footage. Which led him on to believe the disc had been tampered with as had the reports on Beth Cooper and Dr Sander's death. He pushed aside his grief for now; he'd deal with that later. Right now it was time to deal with the people still living.

It was all starting to come together. Sam had been right all along, but Bobby and Dean had doubted his recollection, even his sanity. Sure, in light of the evidence presented to Bobby by the faux detective, how could he have thought anything else at the time?

But it still must've hurt Sam badly, only to be taken prisoner by the shapeshifter shortly after everyone he loved left him alone and vulnerable. Poor kid had been through so much, been badly injured...Bobby just wanted to kick himself right now. Though no amount of guilt in the world could beat how Dean was feeling. He felt he'd let his brother down _again._

"...it could be a while before he's ready to go back to physio but I'm confident...uh, Bobby?"

Bobby blinked, realising he'd drifted off on his own thoughts. "Sorry Tim. Mind was wanderin'."

Tim smiled. "Go home and get some sleep. It'll be awhile before Sam's awake and Dean won't leave him on his own. They'll be fine."

Bobby nodded. "In a little while. When Dean wakes up maybe."

So Tim left the Winchesters to sleep, with their 'Uncle' Bobby playing guard dog.

_**SSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSS**_

Sam had been in and out of hospital for various examinations and treatments over the last few months, but now he was living permanently back at Bobby's place, and Dean felt as though he were fighting an up-hill battle.

"Come on Sam, you need to eat." Dean stared at his little brother. Something was wrong. Sam was quiet and depressed not to mention nervous; the slightest sudden noise or sound made him jump and he refused to sit with his back to the door or window. Dean couldn't blame him and knew it would take time for Sam to feel safe again, but it worried him how little he was eating, how thin he was becoming.

Sam didn't blame Dean or Bobby though he did admit how much their lack of faith in him had hurt. And neither did Sam associate his big brother with the shapeshifter, which came as a relief to Dean.

"Not hungry." Sam answered quietly. He was becoming more withdrawn as time moved on, though he never lacked enthusiasm for his physical therapy sessions, attacking each challenge 

like a true warrior and never giving up until he'd conquered every trial. He was using the wheelchair less and less these days, getting about on crutches as his strength grew. But Dean was worried how long that strength would last if Sam lost any more weight. Over the last seven months since the night the shifter tortured Sam, damn near mortally wounding him, something was praying on Sam's mind, disturbing him. Dean could feel it.

It started him wondering what had been said between Sam and the shapeshifter; a conversation of sorts had obviously taken place and the more Dean thought about it, the more he remembered his brother, gagged and bound to his own wheelchair, head butting the shifter...

Yeah. Something had been said alright, something that had Sam badly riled. Dean stared at him again.

"Enough's enough Sam. Ok? Whatever it is, you need to talk about it dude." Dean said softly. "You've virtually stopped eating, you've stopped talking...all you do is sleep, watch TV or work at rehabilitation and even then I have to stop you virtually killing yourself from exhaustion. It's gotta stop Sam. I'm worried about you kiddo."

"I'm sorry, I just..." Sam turned his gaze away. If Dean didn't know better he'd say his little brother looked ashamed. "I can't..."

Dean knew this wasn't about Sam not trusting him; whatever was bothering him was hard to talk about. Maybe it was time to take the initiative. Normally he'd have waited, given his brother more time, but if he waited any longer Sam was going to make himself sick.

"What did he say to you that night?" When Sam's head shot round in shock Dean raised an eyebrow. "Yeah, I figured that much. Look Sam, whatever it was you've nothing to worry about, nothin' to be ashamed of..."

"Oh don't I?" Sam snapped out. It was Dean's turn to be shocked. "You didn't hear...you weren't there..." He stared into his older brother's eyes and Dean saw him start to shut down again.

_Oh no you don't!_

"I wasn't there, I didn't hear." Voice hard, Dean reached out to grab Sam's arm before he could turn away. "So tell me. I can't help you figure this out if you don't tell me."

"There's nothin' to figure out." Sam's own voice lowered again, and Dean could hear the resignation in his tone. "The bastard threatened to rape me."

Anyone listening outside the door could have heard a pin drop.

"He what?" Asked Dean as calmly as he could.

Sam gave a short sharp nod. "Yeah. Words to that effect." He tried to hide the trembling but Dean was too sharp to miss it. "And if it weren't for you showing up when you did...there was nothing I could've done to stop him."

Another long silence.

Dean didn't want to say the wrong thing but his anger was brewing, and if he stayed any longer he was going to lose it. "Sam...I'm sorry dude. I just need a minute ok?"

Sam watched fearfully, heart sinking as Dean got abruptly to his feet and headed for the door.

Dean turned at the last moment, devastated to see the tears of self-loathing in his little brother's eyes, and sought to reassure him. "There's no way I'm angry with you Sammy. It's not your fault, it's mine. I'm just going to get some fresh air. I won't be long I promise."

Once outside in the yard, Dean crouched down and took some deep breaths. He felt sick to his stomach at what might've happened, what Sam could've suffered...

"Oh God..."

No wonder Sam was so ferocious with his physical therapy, why he was so jumpy. Anyone would be after being attacked and stabbed, but..._rape? Even the threat!_

Sam felt he would never be safe again if he couldn't get back on his feet, couldn't defend himself, and Dean couldn't blame him for that either.

There was no doubt in Dean's mind why Sam had kept it to himself. Not just because he was ashamed but Sam already knew how guilty Dean felt over his behaviour that night.

Sam, a fully grown, highly independent adult, had been tied to his wheelchair, brutally stabbed and threatened with sexual abuse by a creature looking, and _sounding_ like his brother, someone who'd only that very night seriously let him down.

The events of that night whirled round his mind and before he knew it, an hour had passed. And hour he'd left his little brother alone and depressed.

_Shit!_

Dean suddenly felt an overwhelming urge to get back into the house. He had to see him. Sam needed him right now, and no way was Dean letting him down again.

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Sam sat miserably staring at the empty fireplace. He felt loneliness in a way he'd never experienced before; Dean couldn't even bare to look at him right now, in spite of what he'd said before he virtually ran from the room.

And it _was_ his fault. Dean felt guilty enough and now Sam had made things worse.

Tears threatened again; Sam angrily blinked them away and got unsteadily to his feet. Grabbing the crutches he slowly made his way from the room, wincing a little at the pull on his tired muscles. What Sam wanted, _needed_ right now was oblivion.

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Panic. Sheer panic.

"Sam?" Dean, on finding the empty den, was assaulted by a dark, terrible sense of dread and raced through the house. "Sammy!"

He stumbled into the kitchen to find Sam slumped over the table, a half empty bottle of Jack in front of him. No glass.

And a bottle of pain meds. Dean tentatively reached out, picked up the meds and gave the container a shake.

"Sam!" He dropped the empty pill bottle on the floor and grabbed Sam's shoulders, shaking him. "What the fuck? Not again! What...?"

He stopped when Sam cracked open one eye and glared at him.

"God Sam...I thought you were...shit!"

Sam opened his other eye and carried on glaring. "Wha? Thought I wwaaasss ddead? M'not ddead you idiiiot...I'm _druuunnnk!_" The glare turned into a smirk and to Dean's amazement, he started giggling. Then hiccupped loudly.

Dean swiped up the empty pill container from the floor and waved them angrily in Sam's face. "Then what the hell is this!" He yelled out.

Sam tried to focus on the bottle, then broke out in a huge grin. "Fi...finnn...finnisshhhed thiiisss morn'n..." Another hiccup.

As realisation dawned, Dean hung his head with relief, and found himself chuckling along with his brother. _Of course._ Bobby was out getting a repeat prescription for Sam right this minute.

"Jesus kiddo, you had me scared."

Sam seemed to sober up a little. "'m not in that place anymmore Dean. Sure I aint feeeeling like dancin' the Irish jig with sunshhhine and daisies all 'round, but 'm not suicidal. Ok?" He sighed tiredly, voice becoming a little clearer. "Not that 'm in a position to daaance _anythin'_ right nnoow."

Dean smirked a little. "Dude you couldn't dance anyway. Least ways not without lookin' like a dork."

And Sam smiled a genuinely happy smile as he gazed at his brother. It felt as though a weight had been lifted, a small one admittedly, but a weight nonetheless.

"You ok Dean? I mean...I haven't made things worse for you?" Sam asked tiredly, softly, _uncertainly_.

Dean stared at him. "Dude! Stop doin' that! You're the one this happened to and I'm fine 'cos you're nearly back on your feet and _alive._ _That's _all I care about." He offered up a smile before he raised the bottle of Jack to his lips.

"Hey! I aint finnnnished with that!" Sam made a drunken swipe at the bottle.

"Oh you so are! I gotta hide the evidence before Bobby gets back and kicks both our asses for drinkin' his liquor." Dean grinned again as he took another swig.

"Hide?" Sam raised a sardonic eyebrow. "Don't you mean _drinnnk_ the evidence?"

"Yeah!" Dean set the Jack bottle down on the table. "And _you_ little bro," he belched loudly and Sam laughed. "_you_ shouldn't be drinking at all. As of tomorrow, you're back in training!"

"Oh really!" Sam managed to grab the bottle regardless. "And how do suppose we manage that?" He glanced over at the crutches meaningfully.

Dean's smile faded. "You aint defenceless Sammy. I saw what you did to that shapeshifter; you didn't give up and just sit there. You hit out." A small chuckle. "You head butted 'im dude!"

"Ya saw that huh? Damn that hurt!"

"Not as much as it hurt him." Dean gazed at Sam, pride shining in his eyes. "And it bought us time."

In the silence that followed a lot passed between the brothers, and both got the sense that things were finally on the mend, albeit slowly.

__

_**SSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSS**_

Bobby heard loud familiar laughter as he approached the house and smiled a little. He couldn't remember the last time his kitchen had played host to such a noise, but that was just fine. The brother's were finally talking.

Tim had made arrangements with Bobby to come over at the weekend for a poker game, and Bobby had offered him the sofa in case they decided to crack open the bottle of Jack Daniels in Bobby's drinks cabinet. But judging by the alcoholic haze that hit him as soon as he entered the room, Bobby figured he'd have to make a run out to the local store again.

He hid a smirked when the drunken Winchester brothers glanced up at him a little guiltily from the kitchen table.

"You boys realise ya gonna have to pay for that?" When Sam started giggling Bobby found he couldn't hold it in any longer. Sam always had an infectious laugh but when he'd been so long without hearing it...well, it was like music to his old ears. Bobby started sniggering.

Dean was grinning at his brother. "Hey Bobby! You got anymore of this stuff?" he asked, waving the empty bottle under his nose.

"I think you boys've had enough. Let's get Sam to bed before he falls outa his chair huh?" Bobby gently grasped Sam by one arm. Dean grabbed the other arm and between the two of them they managed to half-drag the youngest boy to his bed.

When Sam let out a sigh, closed his eyes and was snoring instantly, Dean reached down with a relieved smile and tucked Sam's fringe behind his ears.

"I think he's gonna be ok Bobby."

"Yeah." Bobby had no idea what had been discussed while he was out, but it was obviously something profound and it wasn't his place to ask. He was just glad the boys were heading back towards an even keel. And if that meant a few hours of just the two of them getting a little drunk together, then that was fine by Bobby Singer.

When Dean fell asleep as soon as his head hit the pillow, Bobby left the room, closing the door quietly behind him.

Just for a little while maybe Bobby's boys would have some peace of mind.

_**End.**_

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_**Author's notes:**_

And it's over. Wasn't sure about the whole 'shifter threatening Sam' the way he did but, for my own reasons, I really wanted to tackle it. I apologise to anyone who might be offended; it's really not meant that way.

As usual the whole blood transfusion scene has been somewhat over-exaggerated, but you all know how addicted I am to drama.

Hope you all enjoyed it, and I can't wait to read what you have to say.

Kind regards,

ST.xxx.


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